


No Deal

by warrior_sif



Series: No Deal Timeline [3]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, The Refuge, Violence, newsies au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-01-06 08:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 45,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12207711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warrior_sif/pseuds/warrior_sif
Summary: What if Jack didn't take Pulitzer's deal before the rally?  A look at the fallout through the eyes of Crutchie, Jack, Davey, and Katherine.Can be read as a stand-alone





	1. Crutchie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story begins right after the the newsies are ambushed at the distribution gate.

**Crutchie**

He hadn’t heard many horror stories about the Refuge from the boys at the boarding house (it just didn’t make for happy conversation, you know), but Crutchie had watched them return with scars, nightmares, and an aversion to being touched without warning. He wasn’t sure he would have noticed the last thing if it hadn’t been for Jack, who he’d watch return from the Refuge at least three times now. Specs had told Crutchie that Jack had been in and out at least another two times before Crutchie had even shown up at the boarding house, so Crutchie can’t even be one hundred percent sure that it’s the Refuge that has caused it. He’s pretty darn sure it’s been the Refuge though, on account that all the other boys that have returned more or less have the same aversion.

 

The last time Jack had escaped, he’d returned in the middle of the night while they were all sleeping and had passed out in his penthouse. Crutchie’s still not sure how he managed to get up that rickety fire escape without waking anyone; the sound of the metal hitting the side of the brick building as it shifts with weight isn’t exactly quiet. When Crutchie had gone up to look in the penthouse that morning, something he did every day Jack was gone just in case he suddenly reappeared, Jack had been passed out on the bed roll he’d dragged up there years ago. Crutchie had brushed his fingers across Jack’s arm – just to make sure he wasn’t imagining his friend’s presence- and Jack had nearly jumped all the way across the roof. The look on his friend’s face and the way he'd crossed his arms protectively over his head had broken his heart. It had taken Crutchie at least an hour to get Jack to uncurl from his position and even look at him and a full three days before Jack would even pretend to be okay with Crutchie’s attempts at comfort.

 

See, that was the thing about Jack. He was the leader, and as far as he was concerned, that meant all his personal problems came last. So as soon as he could, Jack was back out on the streets hawking papes as if nothing had happened. Though if you knew what you were looking for, like Crutchie did, you could see the cracks. Like how Jack would freeze when one of the littler newsies would suddenly come up and hug him from behind, before pasting on a smile and turning to hug the little one back.

 

Sitting in the Refuge now and looking around at all the other kids in the room, Crutchie sees in them the parts of Jack that he so desperately tried to hide from the other newsies. They all just hang their heads low and shift away from him if he gets too close, usually with a pained look upon their face, if they allow him to see it. It takes everything in him to not just reach out and force a hug on some of these kids – especially the younger ones who don’t look more than six or seven years old.

 

He’s been here maybe two days so far, though he isn’t that sure. He must’ve been unconscious at some point because there is a big gap in his memory between being dragged away by the Delanceys and waking up in here. ‘Here’ being a large room, about the size of the main boarding house room, filled with dozens of bunk beds. There were three windows along the one wall, with thick bars every six inches or so, probably added after one of Jack’s previous escapes. On the wall opposite the windows was the single door for the room, which looked heavy and was no doubt locked shut from the outside. The bed Crutchie was currently situated on was pushed up against one of the side walls, for which he was thankful because it meant he could sit on the bed and lean against the wall while simultaneously being able to watch the door.

 

Surveying the rest of the boys in the room, Crutchie doesn’t see any of the other newsies, which means they must have been able to escape. He holds on to the hope that all will go well and the strike will be won. The thought of a win brings a small smile to his face and bolsters his desire to not succumb to the horrors of the place that haunts his brothers’ dreams. He’ll get out eventually. No one stayed at the Refuge forever.  He just has to keep telling himself that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really short, but the next one is longer, I promise. This is my first fic so feedback/suggestions welcome!


	2. Jack

**Jack**

Jack’s heart is pounding in his ears. He can’t even bear to look at Katherine right now. She comes closer to him, but he throws his arm up to force some distance between them and ducks his head beneath his other arm so he doesn’t have to face her. He is fairly sure he is shaking a little, or at least the arm he is using to cover his eyes is. He has to shift his gaze to the floor. He hears Katherine start to say something and recognizes that Pulitzer cuts her short, but he doesn't bother listening to what the man has to say; instead lowering his arms, squaring his shoulders up, and picking a spot on the ground to glare at.

 

It isn’t until he hears  _that_ name that he bothers to look up and shift his glare from the ground to Pulitzer, who is definitely a much more deserving target. Pulitzer is smiling, why is the man smiling? Suddenly, he sees movement in the background – Snyder. Jack turns on his heel to flee the room, but is abruptly stopped by the Delancey brothers, who each take an arm and turn him to face the man of his nightmares. When he tries to keep his head turned, not able to will himself to look at the Spider, whichever brother is holding his left arm shifts his hold so that it is even more painfully twisted backwards and uses their other elbow to knock his face upwards. Jack can’t help but let out a yelp at the involuntary, painful movement of his shoulder, which earns a hearty laugh from the Delancey brothers.

 

With the position he is now being held in, Jack has no choice but to glare at the men in front of him. Pulitzer is now casually leaning on his desk waiting for Jack’s full attention to return to him like the dramatic old man he had to be.

 

“Let me offer you a deal Jack,” he starts. Jack interrupts with a huff of air and an eye roll. There ain’t no way he’d make a deal with Pulitzer.

 

Pulitzer smiles, and just something about the nature of it causes Jack’s heart to beat a little faster. “You go to your little rally and tell all those newsies of yours that if you disband the union, I promise I won’t raise the rates for another two years. I’ll even put it in writing. And in return, I’ll fill your pockets with enough cash to get you a first class train seat out west.” Pulitzer turns to Katherine now and continues, “Where was it you said he wanted to go?” She stares at the man in horror for a second before turning to look at Jack, her eyes glimmering with a mix of fear? Worry? Betrayal? Jack can’t tell.

 

“Oh yes, Santa Fe.” Pulitzer interrupts Jack’s thoughts. Despite the situation, Jack can’t help but feel a little joy at the fact that Katherine remembered his city.

 

Another sharp pull at his shoulder draws Jack out of his thoughts yet again to glare at the man still casually leaning against his desk, staring back at Jack as if he expects a response. “There ain’t no way I’m taking that deal. That…”

 

Jack scowls as he is cut off by Pulitzer, “Well how about I give you a bit more motivation then? If you don’t take the deal, I’ll fill the Refuge with you and all your little friends. Mr. Snyder’s already got your little crippled friend locked up there, I can send you his way should you decide not to take my very generous offer, and you’ve just started this meeting by telling me where I can find all the newsboys of New York tomorrow to round them up. I’m sure that Mr.Snyder would love to have all of you.” Pulitzer smiles a most-definitely-not-friendly smile to wrap up his deal.

 

Jack feels his jaw go slack and drop so that his mouth hangs partially open.   His blood is pounding through his veins, drumming in his ears with every heartbeat.   There’s no way he can take the deal, but he can’t sentence all his boys to the Refuge and the Spider’s mercy either. He turns to Katherine, who’s staring at him, the shock and worry now more clearly written on her face. As hurt as he is by her lying, she seems equally as hurt by her father’s offer -no- threat.  

 

Suddenly a hand appears on his jaw and yanks his face away from Katherine.  Jack finds himself nearly nose to nose with Pulitzer himself, who tightens his grip on Jack’s jaw. “Boys, why don’t you take our guest down to the cellar for the evening and convince him to see our way. Hmmm?” The grip on Jack’s jaw gets painfully tight for a moment as he is forced to look at Pulitzer’s wicked smile once again, before it suddenly disappears.

 

The holds on Jack’s arms loosen for a second - too quick for Jack to find any way out, not that he doesn’t put up a struggle – and the Delanceys shift their hold so that his arms are held solidly behind his back. The brothers push him through some rooms he can tell are fancier than anything at Medda’s, even with only the brief looks he’s able to get as he’s being rushed through them, and then suddenly down a dark set of concrete stairs. Oscar leans around Jack to open the door and Jack finds himself practically being thrown in to the dark room.

 

-A few hours later-

 

Jack’s laying on the floor, still trying to steady his breathing after the “convincing” the Delancey brothers had given him. He gingerly pokes around his stomach and chest, relieved to find the evening hasn’t left him with any broken ribs, at least not yet. He’s sure there’s bruising, but he doesn’t bother lifting up his shirt to look, knowing he couldn’t possibly see the damage in the dark anyway. There are occasional jolts of pain through the shoulder that had been yanked around earlier while still in Pulitzer’s office, but he thinks they’re becoming less frequent.  

 

He’s sure that things are just going to get worse, no matter what his decision ends up being. The Delancey brothers hadn’t really done much convincing; he’s been soaked worse than this before, by them even. On one hand, he could take Pulitzer’s deal and probably get soaked by the newsies for betraying them, or he could not take the deal and be dragged off to the Refuge to be soaked by the Spider’s lackeys. At least he’d be able to check on Crutchie; Jack lets a little smile escape at the thought before remembering Pulitzer’s promise to fill the refuge with all his boys.

 

Jack’s escaped before, multiple times actually, from the Refuge and he’s not yet run out of ideas. He’s sure he could get Crutchie out with him, worst case scenario he’ll put the kid on his back and run for it. Carrying Crutchie wouldn’t be anything new. The kid is small; Jack occasionally carries him home from hawking papes when Crutchie’s leg gets especially bothersome. Breaking out all the newsies though? That would be downright impossible. Between finding them in all the rooms the Refuge has and trying to find an escape route they could all use without being noticed? Impossible. Jack’s not even sure he’s been in all the rooms in the Refuge.

 

Jack’s thoughts are interrupted by a faint knocking coming from somewhere in the cellar. He presumes the door, but you know, its dark and he’s not exactly sure which direction the door is in. Jack slowly pushes himself up in to a sitting position (just because he was pretty sure his ribs weren’t broken doesn’t mean it don’t hurt to move) to look around anyway.

 

“Jack?” He hears a feminine voice whisper. It has to be Katherine. Who else could it possibly be?

 

Jack debates ignoring her for a moment before whispering back, “Kath, ‘s that you?”

 

There’s an audible sigh of relief, coming from somewhere behind him, he thinks. Jack slowly scoots in that direction until he hits something solid and rests his back and head up against the solid wall/door.

 

“Yes. Oh, Jack I’m so glad you’re okay.” The voice is coming from right behind him, so at this point Jack is fairly sure he’s found the door. He thinks he can hear Katherine shifting position to lean against the other side.

 

Jack closes his eyes and responds with a hum, not quite sure that okay is how he’d describe his current situation.

 

“Jack, what are you going to do?” Katherine asks. He can hear the worry in her voice.

 

“I – I don’t know.” Jack ruffles his hand through his hair, realizing that his hat had been lost somewhere in the cellar during his time with the Delanceys. “I can’t take the union from the boys, theys ain’t had something like this to look forward to for…I don’t know how long.” The fact that he can’t stand to lose them by betraying their trust goes unspoken, even if it weighs more in his mind. “But…but I can’t force the Refuge on ‘em. Some of them already been through the place once or twice and they always come back …” Jack searches for the right word but can’t find it. He also doesn’t mention how he’s terrified of going back there himself, sure that the Spider has found new ways to try and “straighten him out”. Painful ways, no doubt.

 

Katherine’s still silent, so he continues, “But I’se escaped before. I’m sure I can find another way. I’se just not sure how many others I’d be able to take with me without getting noticed.”

 

There’s a long period of silence, apparently neither of them being able to come up with a clear solution.

 

“Were you ever gonna tell us? Me?” Jack asks quietly, not sure if he has the energy to have this conversation right now, but he’d rather have talking than be left alone with his winding mind in the silence.

 

He can hear Katherine begin to say something several times, beginnings of words she can’t seem to finish breaking the silence before, “Yes. Eventually.”

 

Jack chuckles. “How long was it gonna be until eventually?” he questions.

 

More silence. “I don’t know. It was nice having you guys not treat me any differently just because of my father’s name.” A momentary pause before, “Sometime after the strike was won most likely.”

 

“After the strike was won? You really think we had a chance?” Jack questions, eager to keep the silence at bay and not quite believing Katherine had that much faith in them.

 

“Yeah. I still think you do actually-“

 

An idea suddenly breaks through the turmoil of Jack’s thoughts.

 

“Kath, you thinks you could find a way to warn to newsies not to go to the rally tomorrow?”

 

There’s a moment of silence before “If my father doesn’t let me out of the house tomorrow, I’m sure I could call Darcy or Bill and have them pass the word on the Race or Specs. But Jack…” she continues, as if guessing his plan.

 

“If you can get them to move the rally or postpone it or something, then Crutchie’s the only one I have to worry about gettin’ out of the Refuge with me.” Jack feels a rush of adrenaline overcome him as a plan starts to fall in to place.

 

“You don’t know that Jack. It’s just more convenient for him to get them while they’re all at the rally; Snyder could go get them anytime…You can’t be sure you’ll be able to get out with Crutchie...”

 

A set of heavy footsteps somewhere up above signals Katherine’s time is up, so Jack quickly whispers, “Just make sure you get word to my boys Kath,” before he hears her scuttle up the stairs.

 


	3. Katherine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter, yay! Also, FYI I went back and fixed the first two chapters this morning and added a couple paragraphs to add little more depth and details (about 700 words more than previous). It is not necessary to reread the chapters to continue with the story.

**Katherine**

When Katherine wakes in the morning, the first thing she does is run down to the cellar. She doesn’t even bother changing in to her day clothes first, willing herself to ignore any whispered comments the staff would give about her state of undress. She knows Jack won’t be in the cellar anymore; her father would have made sure he was long gone by now: either to the rally to betray his friends – no, family – or to the Refuge with Snyder. While her knowledge of the Refuge is slim, the look on Jack’s face when it and Mr. Snyder had been brought up was enough to send shivers down her spine.

 

Katherine slowly opens the door; she’s not sure why however, considering her father appears to have left for work as soon as Jack was taken care of, leaving her alone with the staff in the house. Walking in to the empty room, she gives her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. The only light filtering in to the room comes from a small window on the far wall.

 

She’s never had reason to be in the cellar before, but she had to go now to see the place where _her father_ had locked up Jack all night and left him to the mercy of the Delancey brothers.  Katherine walks to the center of the room and picks up the room’s only content: Jack’s grey newsboy hat. During her relatively sleepless night, she had clung to the hope that maybe Jack would change his mind and take her father’s offer; they could work through the consequences of him speaking against the union at the rally together. Seeing his hat sitting lonely in the middle of her cellar, she knows that he hadn’t changed his mind and she feels her heart sink. She hugs the worn hat tightly to her chest, knowing Jack would never have left his hat willingly. He wore this hat like it was a shield, never to be seen without it, as if it could protect him from whatever terror the world rained down upon him.

 

After sitting on the dirty floor in her nightgown for far too long, Katherine stands up tall to get ready for her day, still clutching Jack’s hat to her chest. She has to make sure Jack didn’t return to the Refuge for nothing. She needs to get out and warn the newsies.

 

An hour later (why did the current women’s fashion have to take so long to get ready), Katherine is rushing out her front door to find the nearest newsboy she can, preferably Specs, Race, or Davey; one of the older boys that the others would listen to. She’d hidden Jack’s hat amongst her winter clothes in the trunk under her bed and hoped that the location was odd enough that none of the house staff would disturb it.

 

Katherine walks several streets looking for one of the newsboys, wondering why when she’s specifically looking for one they’re nowhere to be found, but on any other day she’s hounded by at least five just on her way to work. This thought involuntarily brings up the memory of Jack cornering her and Darcy on the street corner just a week ago. She can’t help but smile upon remembering his cheeky comments and banter.

 

Passing by her favorite bakery, her stomach reminds her that she’s yet to eat breakfast and had forgone dinner the night before. She hadn’t wanted to spend the evening trying to make small talk with her father after he'd condemned Jack to a long evening with the Delancey brothers. Honestly, she thinks she was probably too anxious to have been able to stomach any food anyways. Katherine quickly runs inside the bakery and picks up a couple danishes, eating one entirely too fast to be considered ladylike, and figuring she can pass on the extra to whichever newsie she finds first.

 

Upon leaving the bakery, Katherine catches a glimpse of a newsie with a cigar dangling out of his mouth as he hawks his papers just across the street. The only newsie she knows of that consistently has a cigar on him is Race. Again dropping the pretense of being a proper lady, her mother would have been ashamed by her behavior this morning, Katherine hikes up her skirt and runs across the street towards the unsuspecting newsie.

 

“Race!” She calls before she gets within ten feet of him. His eyes open a bit wider as she comes to a stop at his side.

 

“Hey Katherine.” He begins hesitantly. “You seen Jack around? I mean, sometimes he disappears for a day or so, but I’s worried he got spooked by the rally tonight and did sometin’ stupid.” He gives her a look that can only be described as complete and utter loss. “We’s need him tonight. The other newsies ain’t gonna listen to me for sure and Specs is too shy to even try.” He shifts the cigar to the other side of his mouth to chew on it worriedly.

 

Katherine feels a frown fall on to her face, “About the rally, and Jack…” she looks to the ground, unsure about how to phrase what is going to clearly be distressing news to Race.   “He… he came to my father’s home office yesterday to try and convince him to come and hear you all out at your rally tonight…”

 

“Wait, wait wait!” Race exclaims, holding his hands out in front of him, having put two and two together, “Yer father?! As in Pulitzer? As in you is Pulitzer’s daughter?” The look of betrayal on Race’s face mirror’s that of Jack’s from last night and Katherine’s heart is breaking all over again.

 

“Yes.”   Katherine hesitantly confirms. Race responds by throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.

 

“Why’s you not tell us?   Wait, you’s been spying on us?” Race is now pointing at her with his cigar.

 

“No! My father doesn’t need me to spy on anyone! He’s got people all over this city that already do that for him. He doesn’t even want me to be a reporter! That’s why I work for The Sun and don’t use my real name as my byline.” Katherine realizes she’s possibly yelling a bit too loud and lowers her voice before continuing, “I want to help you guys. I have no allegiance to my father other than the blood the binds us. Please just listen to me Race; I want to help you. I want to help Jack.”

 

Katherine notices she seems to have lost Race somewhere in her rant, as he’s now giving her a misplaced confused look. “Say I forget about you being Pulitzer’s daughter for now.” He pauses, twirling his cigar. “What’s a byline?” he innocently asks.

 

Not expecting Race’s response to go that direction, Katherine can’t help but giggle. “It’s the name I publish under instead of my real name. Lots of reporters do it.”

 

“Oh.” Race says, seemingly contemplating the idea.

 

Katherine gives him a moment longer to consider the idea of bylines before continuing, “So about Jack. He visited my father’s home office last night..”

 

She is interrupted by Race cursing, “That idiot. He knews we needed him.” His cigar is not in his mouth anymore, but in his hand at his side, looking a bit crushed and bent out of shape. Race must realize what he’s done and just throws the thing to the ground before crossing his arms over his chest repeatedly muttering something under his breath. Katherine struggles to hear and understand whatever he’s muttering, but she’s not even sure it’s in English.

 

She hesitantly reaches her arm out to lay a hand on Race’s crossed forearms, hoping to calm him and continue what she has to say. When she does make contact; however, Race freezes momentarily, looking ready to jump out of skin, before recognizing it’s her. He takes a step back, effectively removing his arm from under her hand, and solemnly looks her in her eyes, willing her to continue whatever she has to say.

 

“So, um …” Katherine’s now unsure of exactly how much to tell Race, but decides that leaving anything out would probably not settle well. “My father offered him a deal – go to the rally and speak out against the union and he’d get enough money for a train ticket to Santa Fe.” Race rolls his eyes at that. “Jack declined. So my father _sweetened_ ,” she angrily spits out the word, “the deal by promising to send him and all of you to the Refuge if he declined.” She can see Race getting antsy again. “They took him off to the Refuge sometime this morning,” Race’s face tightens and he lets out a low guttural growl, “but he asked me to come and warn you all.”

 

Race’s face scrunches up in a truthfully scary combination of anger and fear. “So…so..he’s back _there_ and you’s,” he uncrosses his arms for just a moment to shakily point at her, before crossing them even once again even tighter, “you’s just coming out to warn us all that the Spider’s gonna be coming for us?” He glares at her, causing her heart to sink impossibly further.

 

“No, Race…It’s too much work for Snyder,” she’s obviously chosen the wrong name as she can see Race’s face twist with something unrecognizable, “the Spider, I mean, to go around and collect all of you guys one at a time. He was just trying to scare Jack into taking the offer and he’s counting on you all being at Medda’s for the rally tonight. If you just postpone the rally or hold it somewhere else, you should be safe.” She emphasizes the last word and sees Race calm slightly, but fear is still clearly written across his face.

 

He looks scarily similar to a small child in need of comfort, so Katherine makes the bold choice to close the distance between them and envelop Race in a soft hug. He initially tenses, but after some long moments slowly wraps his arms around her and rests his head on his shoulder (darn it, she had a couple years on Race, but he was nearly taller than her). “You will be safe. You all will. You just need spread the word to the others to stay clear of Medda’s tonight. You and Specs and Davey can work out a new place or time for the rally tonight, instead of being there.” She tightens her hug for a brief moment, a little alarmed by how much her arms overlap behind his back. It reminds her of the extra danishes she’d just bought to pass on to the first newsie she encountered. She releases Race, perhaps a little too quickly, and hands over the small paper bag of danishes she’d had in her bag.   “Here. Take these and go warn the others. Please.”

 

She’s pleased by the small smile that returns to Race’s face as he gratefully takes the bag with a small, “thanks” and turns to run down the street. She watches him disappear, and hopes that she's gotten to him early enough to give him enough time to get word to all the others.

 

Once he’s out of sight, Katherine ponders for a moment what to do with the rest of her day. It’s not like she had a job to go to; her father has ensured that path was closed off to her for now. Darcy and Bill are unpredictable in their schedules and typically unavailable unless you’ve planned something out with them ahead of time, so that counts them out. She’s also only really familiar with a couple of the Manhattan newsies, so wandering around warning every one she sees will probably just confuse the ones that don’t know her. She settles with aimlessly wandering her New York streets, buying a newspaper off of each newsie she sees, glad to see their numbers thinning as Race networks with them to get the word out. She occasionally sees one of the older newsies dashing from younger newsie to younger newsie, passing on the news and ushering some of the more scared looking ones back towards the boarding house.

 

A couple of hours of mindless wandering later, her bag is entirely too heavy from the all the newspapers she’s needlessly bought. She scans the corner park she’s stopped in for the nearest trash can and dumps all the papers, feeling the relief in her shoulders. Suddenly, there’s a hand on her shoulder and a person stepping in front of her and her adrenaline’s amping up, but the person turns out to be Davey, with little Les in tow behind him. She takes a moment to breathe and acknowledge the fact that all this Snyder and Refuge business has put her more on edge than she’d like to admit.

 

“Katherine?” Davey asks, looking a bit concerned. Obviously some of her previous emotions were still showing on her face, so she does her best to clear them replace them with a kind smile. It apparently works too; as she sees Davey slowly relax and smile at her in return.

 

“Oh, hi Davey!” She does her best to sound cheerful, or at least nonchalant. “Has Race or any of the other boys come around to see you today?” She asks, hoping the Manhattan newsies haven’t forgotten their newest members.

 

“Oh, yeah.” He frowns and rubs his fingers across the base of his skull. “I admit, I didn’t get much beyond ‘don’t go to Medda’s tonight’. Do you happen to know more?” He looks to her with a mix of concern and confusion.

 

Les takes this moment to step in with a pouty, “Yeah! Jojo says we ain’t -“

 

“Can’t,” Davey corrects with a pointed look.

 

Les sticks his tongue out at his brother before continuing, “ _can’t_ go to the rally tonight. How come? Do _you_ know? He said you were Pulitzer’s daughter too. Is that true?” He crosses his arms and gives Katherine what she thinks is supposed to be an intimidating look.

 

“Well,” she gives Davey a pointed look, “to the second question: yes, but I’m one hundred percent on your guys’ side in this fight. As for the other question: Brooklyn’s leader is really sick, and none of his newsies will come without him, and Brooklyn’s got the most newsies out of everyone,” Katherine realizes she’s rambling and her lie is going to become very obvious if she doesn’t cut it short soon, “So everyone decided to wait until he’s better to have the rally so all of the Brooklyn newsies can be there too.”

 

Les gives her a discerning look before accepting her answers with, “Oh, okay!”

 

Katherine turns to look at Davey again and, thank goodness, it looks like he got her hint that this was not necessarily something she wanted to talk about in front of Les. He turns to Les, “Hey, you sold all the papers yet?”

 

Les smiles, oblivious to the unspoken conversation that had occurred, “No, but I’ve only got two left!” He waves his two remaining papers in the air, pointing at them with his free hand.

 

“We’ll sell those on the way home then.” Les’s frown does not go unnoticed by Davey. “Katherine really shouldn’t be out walking around by herself after dark Les, so I’m going to take you home to Mom before walking Katherine home.”

 

Les objects with a “Why can’t I walk her home too!” and a pout.

 

Davey seems prepared for this objection and states, “Because Mom doesn’t like _you_ out after dark either. And you know if you make her upset by staying out after dark she won’t let you come sell papers with me tomorrow.” Davey smiles down at Les, seemingly assuming his win.

 

“Fine,” Les concedes, not willing to risk his chances at being allowed to hawk papers the next day.

 

Katherine smiles, walking by Davey’s side as Les runs ahead and easily sells his last couple of papers. After those papers are sold, Les returns to walk between them, filling the twenty minute walk back to the Jacobs’ house with stories about how he had “improved” the headlines over the last couple of days – a trick he had no doubt learned from Jack. They eventually come to a stop at the wooden door of a small brick building. Katherine waits at the bottom of the steps as Davey ushers Les inside and yells into the depths of the house, “Mom, I’m just going to walk Katherine home then I’ll be right back.” Davey holds the door open just long enough to hear his mother’s confirmation before quickly shutting it, as if leaving it open any longer would risk Les sneaking back through it. He walks down the couple of steps two at a time before once again standing at Katherine’s side.

 

They stand there in awkward silence for a couple of moments before Katherine realizes he’s waiting for her to lead the way, obviously not knowing the way to her house. “Oh, yeah, this way,” she awkwardly says while gesturing to her left with her hand before starting to shuffle her feet in that direction.

 

The awkward silence stretches on for a block or two before Davey begins with, “So, I’m fairly sure that the reason the rally was canceled has nothing to do with Spot Conlon being sick.” There’s another awkwardly silent pause. “And from how terrified Jojo looked when he told me combined with the fact that nobody’s seen Jack today, I can only imagine it’s nothing good.”

 

Katherine had forgotten exactly how astute Davey was and has to take moment before responding, “Yeah. Jack came by my father’s home office yesterday to invite him to state his case at the rally tonight – told him all the details right off the bat, as if he actually expected my father to consider the idea.” She lets out a small chuckle before noticing the look on Davey’s face, registering as something between exasperation and grief.  “What’s that look for?” she asks, crossing her arms. When she doesn’t get an answer after a couple of moments, she stops walking entirely and places herself in Davey’s way.

 

Davey looks exasperatedly at her for a moment before speaking. “He got that idea from me.   We were talking more about unions and how the trolley workers invited their boss to their union meetings to try and at least start a healthy discussion. As soon as I said it, I wished I hadn’t because I knew he would try and emulate that in some way. I told him he couldn’t go and invite Pulitzer because he wouldn’t even consider entering a discussion with us. He’s ruthless and doesn’t see the newsies as anything more than pawns in his business game.” He suddenly seems to remember who he’s talking to and tacks on, “No offense, of course.”

 

Katherine huffs, uncrosses her arms, and continues walking. “None taken. That’s an apt description.” They’re about five minutes out from her house now, so she knows she’s got to end this conversation sooner than later. “He offered Jack a deal: speak against the union at the rally and he’d get enough money to get to Santa Fe. Jack declined. So my father brought out Snyder, who he had happened to be in a meeting with before Jack had shown up, and told Jack that if he declined he’d fill the Refuge with all the newsies. Jack had started out the meeting telling him exactly where all of you would be tonight too, so he could’ve done it.”

 

“I take it he didn’t take the deal?” Davey frowns and tilts his head down.

 

“I think he was undecided at first. My father locked him in the cellar all evening with the Delancey brothers – thought they’d be able to convince him to take his offer.”   She winces, not wanting to think about what convince really meant in that context. “I waited up and snuck down to talk to him when the Delanceys left for a smoke break. I think he was still very much undecided at that point.”

 

They’ve come to a stop outside her door, but Katherine doesn’t see the light on in her father’s office, which is situated in the front of the house, so she continues, “He seemed to think that he’d be able to get himself and Crutchie out of the Refuge without too much trouble, so long as it was just the two of them. Then he asked me to make sure all the newsies got the word to stay away from Medda’s tonight.”

 

Davey sticks his hands in his pockets and looks up at the sky, which is clear and twinkling with stars. “Sounds like Jack. Specs did say he’s gotten out of there a couple of times now, so maybe the confidence is warranted.” Davey is trying to sound reassuring, but Katherine can tell he's not even convincing himself.

 

“Yeah, well what’s done is done. We’ve just got to work to reschedule the rally to settle the strike and hope that he and Crutchie are out sooner than later.” Katherine says, the journalist in her trying to outline their next steps, just as she would outline a major new story.

 

“So that’s what we’ll do. Tomorrow, after the selling day is over, let’s plan on meeting at the lodging house with Race and Specs and the others to get the ball rolling.” He removes his left hand from his pocket and grips her shoulder reassuringly.

 

“Absolutely,” Katherine smiles, glad to have something planned. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

 

Davey smiles and again confirms their meeting tomorrow before they exchange good nights. Katherine walks up the steps to her house, possible plans swirling around in her head. She’s glad to have something to _do_ instead of worry and rushes up to her room to get the ideas down on to paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Longer chapter! Comments/suggestions appreciated! (Also fun fact, this chapter pretty much tripled the length of the story so far)


	4. Davey

**Davey**

 

Davey wakes to Les jumping on him, which has become the norm since they've starting selling papers. The roles had been reversed when all they had to look forward to was a day in a classroom. Les, over the last couple of days, had made it _very_ clear that he's much happier as a newsie than a student, which meant his whole view on waking up early had changed. Davey could tell his parents had mixed feelings about Les’s declaration; happy he was not distraught over having to work, but also ultimately concerned about the widening gap in his education. Davey didn’t exactly mind selling papers, he was doing what he had to in order to help his family survive, but he was looking forward to going back to school.

 

Les had now resorted to tugging on Davey’s arm, apparently not satisfied with how slow Davey is to wake. Davey groans, yanking his arm out of his brother grip, before finally rising from his bed.

 

“It’s about time you woke up!” Les exclaims.  “I want to go! Maybe if we get there early enough, we’ll be able to catch Jack and sell with him today!”

 

Davey cringes. By the time he had returned from walking Katherine home last night, Les had already been asleep, so he’s still unaware of the whole Jack situation. It’s not exactly news that Davey is looking forward to breaking to him either, considering how Les basically worships the guy. Davey postpones the conversation until later, instead focusing on getting dressed for the time being.

 

No more than ten minutes later, Davey and Les are out the front door and on their way to the distribution gate. Davey’s mind is lost to thinking about Jack and how to reorganize the rally, but he is distantly aware of Les walking alongside him, endlessly chattering about his ideas to improve today’s headlines even though he’s yet to see them.

 

When the distribution gate is finally in sight, Davey stops and grabs Les’s shoulder, knowing he needs to tell him about Jack _now_ or Les will eventually get the information from the other newsies. Les would be furious when he eventually found out Davey knew without telling him, and then he would be stuck trying to sell papers with a grumpy nine year old for the rest of the day. He can tell Les is eyeing the small group of newsies starting to gather in front of the distribution gate; trying to discern whether or not Jack is there. Still unsure of how to tell Les, he spits out, “Jack’s not going to be there.” Apparently he was taking the blunt approach.

 

Les turns to glare up at his brother, “And how do _you_ know?”

 

Gosh, Davey really was not prepared for handling situations like this. “He was trying to be nice and invite Mr. Pulitzer to the rally, so that he could state his case to the newsies, like how the trolley workers talked with their boss.” Davey hesitates, wondering how to word the next bit without scaring Les or breaking his idol-worship of Jack. “Mr. Pulitzer didn’t really think there was much to discuss and was a bit upset that Jack would have the gall to even ask him to come, so he sent Jack off to the Refuge.” Davey takes a deep breath, glad to finally have it out, before slowly turning his head to look at his brother.

 

Davey nearly does a double take when he sees a smile spread across Les’s face. “Pfffft. That’s nothing. Jack will be out in no time,” Les smiles, the graveness of the situation lost on him. “He’s got out before, like that time with Governor Roosevelt! He’ll get himself and Crutchie out speedy quick. Then we can have the rally like normal.”

 

Davey stands in shock at how not worried Les is about the fact his idol is locked in the Refuge, wanting to try and explain the seriousness of the situation to his little brother, but Les has taken his silence as signal the conversation is over and is running ahead to greet the still small group of newsies at the distribution gate. Davey starts slowly walking in that direction as well, bee lining for Specs when he can make him out from the others.

 

Specs takes about ten steps away from the group to meet Davey. Davey notices the bags under Specs’s eyes and how he overall looks downright exhausted. “Everything all right?” he asks, “I mean, besides Jack and …” he trails off, not sure what else to say.

 

“Aw, just a rough night at the boarding house. The others who’ve been in the Refuge before were freaking out about the whole Pulitzer threat, which then started worrying the littler ones, and it just became a whole mess.” Specs removes his hat and starts fiddling with it. “Jack’s normally the one who keeps order around the house.”   There’s a long silence and Davey wants to provide some comfort but he’s at a loss for words that won’t just sound like empty reassurances. “And those of us who’s been around long enough have watched Jack come back from that place more times than we like to count.   We’re worried.” Specs slides his cap back on his head solemnly.

 

Davey takes a moment to look at the group of newsies congregating over at the distribution gate, able to spot Les hopping around in the middle, apparently trying to cheer up the visibly distraught group. The gathering is still much smaller than normal, and he’s about to ask Specs where everyone is, but Specs offers up the information without any prompting.

 

“I’s made the littler ones stay back today. They was still freaking out this morning and with not much sleep, I couldn’t see them actually being able to hawk papes today. I made Race stay back to keep an eye on ‘em.” Specs finishes.

 

Davey and Specs both turn at the sound of laughing to see that some sort of game has broken out amongst the gathered newsies, no doubt initiated by Les. Davey clears his throat, knowing the gates will open soon, “So I talked with Katherine yesterday. She told me everything that happened.” Specs gives Davey a look he doesn’t read, so he ignores it and continues, “I told her to come over to the boarding house tonight. So we all could talk about rescheduling the rally and such.”

 

Specs shrugs his shoulders, “So long as everything goes smooth today, we’ll be back same time as normal. Brooklyn’s gonna want to be there though. Race said Spot wasn’t too happy about the rally being cancelled on him like that and we _need_ Brooklyn if we’s gonna win.”

 

Davey has never met Spot, but by the way all the other newsies fear him, he’s not sure he wants to be the one to go and ask him to meet with them tonight.  Hell, he’s not even sure where to look for the King of Brooklyn. He pushes away the nervous energy to ask, “So how can I –“

 

He’s cut off by Specs laughing. “We-“ he gestures to the two of them “-ain’t doing nothin’. If we want Spot Conlon at the meeting, and we do, Race’s gonna have to be the one to ask him. Race and Jack’s the only two Manhattan newsies he’ll put up with.” Davey wonders what the story behind that is, but doesn’t get the chance to ask.

 

There’s a sudden sound of the distribution gates creeping open and Mr. Wiesel calling in all the newsies to get their papers. Davey and Specs silently join the line.   He can see the Delancey brothers standing in their normal spots behind the stacks of neatly folder papers and feels a shiver roll up his spine and his stomach churn as he remembers what Katherine had said about them "convincing" Jack.  When it’s his turn to buy his papers, he does so as quickly and wordlessly as possible. As soon as he has his stack of papers, he turns away and walks a bit too quickly out the gates.

 

Specs is waiting for him with Les, who is still smiling and greets him with, “Davey, can I sell with Specs today. Please?” It’s followed by an attempt at puppy eyes and an even larger smile.

 

Before he can object, Specs buts in with, “I don’t mind Dave. I’ll even return him home for you so you don’t have ta before the meeting tonight. So long as you stop by the boarding house and tell Race to go get Spot.”

 

Again, before Davey can say anything, Les complains, “What meeting? Why can’t I stay for that too? I want to meet the King of Brooklyn.”

 

“Oh, uh…” Davey’s at a loss for an excuse.

 

“Ah, I’ll explain it to ya while we out selling.” Specs smiles at Davey, grabs Les’s hat off his head, and runs down the street with Les trailing after; eliminating any last chances for Davey to object.

 

Upon entering the boarding house the middle of that afternoon, having lucked out and sold all his papers fairly quickly, Davey is assaulted by the screams of the younger newsies. Against his better judgment he rushes towards the outburst. Before he can reach the stairs however, he runs right in to Race, who jumps back immediately.

 

“Oh, uh sorry Davey.” Race manages to get out. “Specs made me stay with the little ones today and they’s not doin what I says.” Race runs his hand through his hair. Davey thinks this is the first time he’s ever seen him sans hat or cigar. “I’s just tryin’ to make ‘em take a nap, cause they didn’t sleep none last night.”

 

“ _You_ don’t look like you slept either Race.” Davey interjects, noting how dark the bags under Race’s eyes are.

 

“Eh, this whole situation’s got all of us on edge.” Race skirts around any sort of real answer and ducks his head to the side.

 

There’s another burst of screams from the younger newsies. Race winces. “I’s better head back and try again.” He says, turning to head back up the stairs.

 

Davey places his hand on Race’s shoulder to keep him from leaving, but yanks it immediately when Race jumps upon contact. He thinks he can hear Race mumbling something as he turns to face Davey again, but he can’t be sure. “Sorry Race. I didn’t mean to scare you.” There’s more muttering from Race. “Katherine and I were hoping to meet with you guys tonight to talk about rescheduling the rally. When I spoke to Specs about it this morning, he said Brooklyn wouldn’t want to be left out and that you were the only one who could go and get them.” Race smirks at that. “I’ll entertain the little ones while you go.” Davey tacks on and that gets a smile and laugh out of Race, who takes off running out the front door of the boarding house.   Davey thinks he can hear him yelling ‘good luck’ in the distance and wonders what exactly he’s just gotten himself in to.

 

It turns out he had gotten himself in to hours of trying to get about two dozen little newsies to go to bed. He tried everything: telling them stories, trying to trick them in to playing the quiet game why laying in bed, telling them more stories. Nothing. Then out of nowhere appears Katherine, who upon seeing Davey laying on the floor being tackled by his charges, puts her fingers in her mouth and lets out a long, shrill, whistle before commanding, “Boys. Get off of Davey and go to bed like Race asked you to do hours ago.”

 

There’s a couple of complaints from the boys, but they do actually head off to their beds and lay down quietly. Davey remains sitting on the floor for a few more moments, just staring at Katherine in awe. “I wish you’d been here hours ago,” he states as he gets up and straightens out his clothes.

 

Katherine giggles. “Come on. I saw Race outside while I was on my way in,” she says as she leads the way down the stairs to the small sitting room at the entrance, where they take seats next to each other on the worn couch. Davey enjoys the silence, his head pounding from all the screaming he’d been subjected to over the last couple of hours.

 

Jojo sticks his head in the front door, sees the two of them sitting there and smiles, “You finally get them down?” He asks, looking a bit like an overexcited puppy.

 

“Yeah. You’ve got Katherine to thank for that,” Davey replies, vaguely gesturing in Katherine’s direction.

 

“Finally. We’se been waiting _forever_.” Jojo exclaims before running through the lobby and racing up the stairs, most of the other newsies trailing not far behind.

 

“They’re probably not asleep yet…” Katherine begins, but her warning comes too late and the sounds of the new arrivals being ambushed by the little ones can be heard from where they are sitting. She winces.

 

Race walks in with another newsie Davey can only assume is the King of Brooklyn himself, Spot. They pull over chairs from the small table beside the couch and sit down in them so they are facing Davey and Katherine. Before they can start any small talk, Specs walks in. He notes the rest of them awkwardly sitting in silence and pulls up the last chair from the table. The awkward silence continues.

 

“Okay, since all you Manhattans are too shy to talk I’m gonna start this thing off.” Spot folds his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair. “I knows you two.” He nods to Race and Specs. Then he turns to Davey, “I’m gonna assume you’s Davey cause you look smart.” He then turns to Katherine, “Which means you’s that reporter he was talking about. Daughter of Pulitzer who don’t actually work for Pulitzer. Or so Race says.”

 

Katherine starts, “I want-“, but she’s cut off by Spot.

 

“I don’t cares. If Race says I can trust you, I can trust you. Just don’t makes me regret it.” He glares Katherine down. “So let me run down what I knows. Jack decided to be stupid and go see Pulitzer alone. Pulitzer decided to play Jack’s weaknesses. Jack ends up in the Refuge and we’s got to cancel our rally because Pulitzer threatened to have everyone who showed up locked away with Jack. Am I correct?”

 

“Pretty much, yeah.” Davey replies. He understands now why Spot is the King of Brooklyn. They’d only sat down for this meeting a couple of minutes ago and he’s already taken charge.

 

“Good. So that brings us to now. What’s the plan Manhattan?” He leans forwards so his forearms rest on his knees, apparently waiting for some sort of plan.

 

“Well, I was thinking that so long as we keep the date quiet we shouldn’t have a problem keeping Medda’s theatre as the location. It’s private property, so he can’t really keep us from using it,” Davey begins.

 

“Medda’s always happy to see us too.” Race adds. “I mean, she won’t be happy Jack’s _gone_ again, but she ain’t gonna hold it against us.”

 

“How soon do you think you could get everyone to gather again?” Katherine asks. “You don’t want to lose any momentum by waiting too long.”

 

“Manhattan’s easy enough cause we’re right here. The rest’ll follow if Brooklyn says they’re coming.” Specs breaks his silence to answer Katherine’s prompt.

 

The attention turns to Spot, who rolls his eyes, “You guys is missing a big detail here. Why’s we even need a rally?” Spot questions.

 

Davey catches on to where Spot’s heading and interjects, “You make a good point. Pulitzer’s made it clear he’s not open to discussion. And if you tell the other newsies about how he essentially locked Jack away for even trying to start one, they’ll rally behind that.”

 

“Exactly.” Spot confirms, nodding. “We’s gonna skip right ahead to striking. Day after tomorrow. Gives us enough time to get the word out.”

 

“Soon’s they hear Brooklyn’s coming, all the boroughs will say they’ll come,” Race adds.

 

“You should invite the other working kids of New York. You’d basically shut New York down.” Katherine says.

 

Spot seems to be considering the idea when Race asks, “How’s that helpin’ us?”

 

“If we shut New York down and make it very clear that it is because of the newsies strike, all the other big bosses will put the pressure on Pulitzer to end this sooner than later.” David concludes with a smile. “Katherine, that’s genius.”

 

“Thank you,” she smiles back.

 

“So that’s what we’ll do. I’ll send some of my boys to tell the other boroughs. You guys make sure you’re set here.” Spot stands. “Now I got ta get back ta my Brooklyn now. I don’t want ta be hearing that we’ve gotta cancel this too cause one of ya did something stupid, so don’t do anything stupid.” He glares at each of them in turn before walking out of the boarding house to return to Brooklyn. Race and Specs also say quick goodnights before heading up the stairs to the bunk room.

 

“We’d better be getting home too,” Davey says to Katherine as he stands. “I’ll walk you home?”

 

Katherine joins him standing and says, “How about to Medda’s? It’s actually on the way to your house I think, unlike my house. Her show should be ending soon and I have an idea I want to talk to her about. Also should probably apologize for the whole rally scheduling mess.” She twists her face at that. “I’ll get myself home afterwards.”

 

It’s well and truly dark out now, so Davey’s not exactly comfortably with the idea, but he agrees anyways, knowing Katherine can take care of herself. She also doesn’t give him time to object, as she’s already disappeared out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next two chapters we'll check in on Crutchie and Jack. Both chapters are partially written already, so hopefully they'll both be posted this week.
> 
> As always, comment/suggestions appreciated!


	5. Crutchie

**Crutchie**

 

Crutchie has been drifting in and out of sleep since he’d woken up in the Refuge a couple of days ago. It’s not like there is much else to do besides inhale the scraps of food inconsistently thrown in to the room. When he is awake, Crutchie’s thoughts drift to his friends and he wonders about the strike. He hopes they are all okay and that the strike is going well. He likes to think that everything outside the confines of this room is going great, but that is all just hope.

 

He figures Jack is probably a little antsy, or will be when he finds out Crutchie is in the Refuge. Jack likes to think of himself as Crutchie’s older brother, which Crutchie doesn’t mind, but that makes him a bit protective. Crutchie can’t count the number of times Jack has told someone off or thrown a punch for his sake. But Jack couldn’t protect him here without joining him and Crutchie hoped he had enough sense not to land himself back here. Watching Jack deal with his nightmares upon his returns from the Refuge was hard enough.  Crutchie doesn’t think he’d be able to watch his brother live through his nightmares, especially since Jack would probably still try and play as the tough guy.

 

Finally, something happens to differentiate this day from the previous ones. The single door to the room slams open and a large statured man in a pressed suit walks in. Crutchie’s staring at him when he notices all the other boys jump from their beds to stand beside them, so he does the same, wondering what to expect. The man slowly stalks in to the room, taking his time to stare down as many of its occupants as possible, before coming to a stop maybe ten feet in front of the nearest bunk to the door.

 

“Everyone get yourselves downstairs and cleaning now. I want everything spotless.” He growls out.

  
Everyone starts heading towards the door, Crutchie included, but they must not be moving fast enough for the man, as he yells out, “I said now, didn’t I?!”. Then everyone scuttles out as quickly as possible. Crutchie waits for the majority of the crowd to funnel through the door before hobbling through it himself, not wanting to get tripped or trip anyone else in the rush. The man follows him out the door, but continues down the hallway instead of towards the stairs with the stream of boys. Crutchie watches him unlock the next door and yell out the same message he’d heard moments earlier, before he hops down the stairs.

 

Downstairs, everyone is grabbing various rags, brushes, and buckets from a small closet tucked under the stairwell. This all seems routine to the other boys and Crutchie wonders if this is a common occurance. A kid who appears to be around his age comes up to him, pushes a brush in to his hand, and whispers, “Come on. You don’t want to be one of the poor saps whose found without a supply or not doin’ nothing.” Crutchie stands there in shock at the implication of the boy’s words. Even though on some level he has an idea of what happens at the Refuge, he’s been able to push those thoughts to the back of his mind over the last couple of days.

 

The boy takes a few steps, before looking back at Crutchie and urgently waving his hand to indicate he should follow. “Come on,” he urges again, a bit more frantically this time and his eyes wide with a mix of fear and concern. Crutchie follows as fast as he can, not wanting to keep the kid waiting any longer.

 

They eventually end up back in the main hallway. The kid – Crutchie has got to figure out his name because he can’t keep referring to him as kid – sets the bucket he was carrying down on the floor before kneeling down beside it. Crutchie leans his crutch up against the wall and slides down it to join the kid on the floor. He is already scrubbing at the floor with his brush, so Crutchie dips his brush in to the bucket and does the same.

 

They continue in silence for a while, getting the floor as clean as they can. There are some dark red-brown smudges trailing the length of the hallway that are particularly hard to scrub out, and Crutchie fills the silence by internally listing all the things that the stains could possibly be. So far he’s got mud, molasses, and any sort of dark drink like the ones he sometimes saw real customers at Jacobi’s drinking. Not much of a list really, but trying to add to it keeps his mind busy.

 

After a good ten minutes without any new items to add to the list, Crutchie turns to the kid beside him and whispers, “So…I’m Crutchie. What can I call you?”

 

The kid looks up and down the hallway before responding, “You can calls me Catcher. Doesn’t fit me much anymore, but it’s what I knows to listen for.”

 

“So how long you been in here?” Crutchie begins, wondering if Catcher has been in the Refuge long enough to have met Jack. It would at least be something for them to talk about, even if Crutchie isn’t exactly sure how much he wants to hear about Jack’s time in the Refuge.

 

Catcher open his mouth to answer, but quickly slams it shut and ducks his head when the man from earlier walks in to the hallway. Crutchie mimics him, trying to appear as if he hadn’t been doing anything else prior. The man walks out just as quickly as he entered, but the tenseness stays. Both boys remain quiet. When they reach the end of the hall, they repeatedly scrub the same patch of floor, waiting for any indication that the work is done and satisfactory.

 

From somewhere towards the back of the building, Crutchie hears, “All right. Looks good enough. Get back to your bunks. Now!” It’s screamed out by the same man as earlier. Crutchie tosses his brush in the bucket and prepares to stand up before realizing his crutch is still leaning against the wall at the other end of the hall. Before he can even consider asking for help, Catcher is running down the hall to snatch the crutch and return it to him.

 

“Thanks” Crutchie manages to get out as he uses his crutch to stand. His knees are sore from kneeling on the wood floor for so long, but he slowly follows Catcher back to the closet to return the cleaning supplies. He then follows him back out in to the hallway they’d just scrubbed and down towards the stairs that lead back up to the bunk rooms.

 

Just as he gets to the base of the stairs, a hand appears on Crutchie’s shoulder and he freezes, watching Catcher’s feet race up the steps and out of sight. The hand squeezes a bit too tightly to be considered friendly, but not tight enough to leave any bruise. From behind him, he hears a man’s voice say, “I need to see you in my office boy.”  It’s the voice of the man who’s been barking orders at them all day.

 

Crutchie is slow to turn around once the hand is removed from his shoulder and feels his heart start race, worried he’s done something wrong and is about to see the even darker side of the Refuge.

 

“Come on boy, I don’t got all day.” The man growls as he gives Crutchie a little shove, which nearly topples him. He brushes off the movement as an awkward beginning to walking down the hallway, keeping a couple steps distance between himself and the man. They stop at the door at the opposite end of the hall, which has a little shiny plaque on it that’s inscribed with ‘Mr. Snyder – Director’. Crutchie gulps and feels some of the blood drain from his face as he realizes the man who’s been yelling at them all day is Snyder himself – or as Jack would call him, the Spider.

 

Snyder fumbles with his keys a bit before finally unlocking the door to his office and leading Crutchie in, motioning for him to take a seat in the wooden chair in front of the large desk. After he’s seated, Crutchie pulls at the knees of his pants, which had gotten wet from the water that pooled on the floor while he was scrubbing.

 

While Snyder walks around his desk to examine the books on his bookshelf, Crutchie takes everything in. The office is fairly large. It could probably comfortably fit four bunks inside with room to spare. In the center of the room is Snyder’s desk, which is made of a dark brown wood with some sort of green sheet on top. Off to the side sits a telephone and a jar filled with pencils and a singular brass key. There’s a window on the right wall looking out at the front yard of the Refuge. The street can be seen through the gaps in the metal fence. On the left wall is a door, which Crutchie presumes leads to some sort of closet. Behind the desk is the filled bookshelf, which is currently drawing Snyder’s attention away from Crutchie. It’s the fanciest place Crutchie ever did see besides Medda’s theatre.

 

Crutchie is drawn out of his thoughts by a large thud as Snyder drops a very large black book on to his desk before sitting in the padded chair behind it.

 

“Stop looking at me like that kid.” Snyder glares at him. “I just need your information for the records book,” he says as he pats the large book in front of him. “Normally I would have done this when you arrived, but you were out cold, so I just had them take you upstairs.” Snyder flips through almost to the end of the book before picking one of the pencils out of the jar. “So what’s your name kid?”

 

A little alarmed about how normal the situation seems, Crutchie stammers out, “Cru…Crutchie.”

 

Snyder chuckles a bit at his name before jotting it down in the book, but Crutchie is too nervous to care. “Any last name to go with that, kid?”

 

“Not that I remembers.” Crutchie offers.

 

“And how old are you?” Snyder continues prompting.

 

Honestly, he isn’t sure his age. The consensus between the boys was that he was probably a year younger than Jack and Specs, with Race a year younger than him. Last time Jack had been asked his age by one of his regulars, a fancy doctor guy who would always joke with Jack about the cause of whatever bruises or scrapes he was sporting, Jack had answered seventeen. “Sixteen”, Crutchie finally answers.

 

“Younger than your friend Kelly then, huh?” Snyder remarks as he jots down Crutchie’s answer. Crutchie doesn’t respond, not wanting to talk about Jack with this man. Snyder sets down the pencil and continues anyways, “You’d do best by not following that urchin. He’s no good.”

 

Crutchie’s nervousness is almost immediately replaced by anger. “He’s my friend,” he retorts, gripping the arms of the chair.

 

“Then you’d best find yourself some better friends when you get released. Start brand new.” Snyder is smiling now. “Kelly and all those other newsboys have been chased out of town by Mr. Pulitzer anyways.” Crutchie’s heart sinks as Snyder’s smile widens. “Turns out when you go against the biggest man in town and fail, no one can trust you enough to hire you.” Crutchie’s heart breaks as the man confirms the strike’s failure.

 

Snyder seems to wait for another retort from Crutchie, but turns back to the book when he doesn’t get one. Turning the book towards Crutchie, he holds the pencil out and orders, “Write your name here”, while gesturing towards the end of a line on the paper.

 

Crutchie looks at the pages to see the information of other boys being held in the Refuge. He reads the names on the open pages as quickly as he can manage and has mixed feelings when he doesn’t see any of his friends listed. On one hand, he’s overjoyed that they are out and free, but on the other hand that means he won’t have anyone to look for the others with when he gets out. He feels guilty for even hoping a little that one of his friends was here with him.

 

The beginning of the line Snyder is pointing at has the information Crutchie had just told Snyder. He takes the pencil, carefully holding it in his hand. It feels uncomfortable and he wonders when exactly the last time he held a pencil was. Crutchie wasn’t like Jack who always had a pencil in his pocket for sketching on the back of his unsold papes; or like Katherine, who carried her pencil and notepad with her everywhere she went in case she came across a story. He had no reason to hold a pencil, so it felt as foreign to him as air to a fish. Snyder clears his throat, again tapping the page where he wants Crutchie to sign. Crutchie puts the pencil to the paper to sloppily scribble out something he thinks resembles his name before setting the pencil down on the desk besides the book.

 

“Good. Return to your bunk now.” Snyder orders as he slams the book shut. Crutchie leverages his crutch to stand and turns to exit the room, pausing when from behind him he hears, “And boy, not that I think you’d be able to, but don’t even think of trying to get out like Kelly made a habit of doing. I’ve got all his tricks figured out. Even he can't get out of here now.” A pause before, “Now get back to your bunk.” Crutchie doesn’t waste any time following Snyder’s order the second time.

 

Upon returning to the room he thinks he exited from that morning, Crutchie enters as quietly as possibly so as to not wake any of the boys who might have fallen asleep. When he gets to the bunk he had been in the last couple of days, he finds a small boy, no older than six already seated there.

 

“Mind if I join ya?” Crutchie whispers and tries to offer a smile. The little kid looks up to him, revealing a bruise across the entire left side of his face, before shaking his head and patting the space on the bed beside him. Crutchie sits on the bed before laying his crutch on the floor and nudging it under the bed with his good foot. He then scoots back so that his back is resting against the wall.

 

If Crutchie thought his heart couldn’t break any further, he was wrong. The kid, who looks exactly like how he imagines a young Jack would look, unkempt brown hair and gentle green eyes, looks up at Crutchie with teary eyes and tentatively reaches out towards him. Crutchie opens his arms and hugs the kid, who curls up in to his embrace and silently sobs in to his shirt.

 

They stay like that for a long while before Crutchie feels tears pool in his own eyes and start sliding down his cheeks. He’d spent the last couple of days determined to stay hopeful and not let this place get him down. After hearing what Snyder said in his office about the boys being scattered and the strike a failure, he can’t help but feel filled to the brim with utter despair. His mind keeps churning with the same set of questions. Were his friends hurt? Had any of them been able to stay together as they fled? Would he be able to find any of them if – no, when – he got out?

 

Eventually he falls in to a restless sleep; still holding the young boy in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this chapter is a bit shorter than the last two and took a little longer to get out. I find Crutchie really hard to write. On the upside, we return to Jack next chapter and it is mostly written already! I expect to have it posted sometime on Saturday.
> 
> As always, comments/suggestions appreciated!


	6. Jack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: descriptions of violence, descriptions of injury (neither are particularly graphic, I think, but let me know if there's something I should add up here)

**Jack**

 

Everything hurts. That’s really all that is registering with Jack when he wakes up. Damn, he hates when he loses time, waking up in unknown places and situations, having no clear idea what’s happened. Currently, he is lying on the ground with his still-cuffed hands resting under his stomach, the cuffs painfully pushing up in to his ribs. Jack pushes off the ground and shifts his arms out from under him before slowly rolling on to his back. He takes a couple of deep breathes. God, his chest hurts.

 

Realizing he’s yet to open his eyes, Jack opens them to find matching darkness, so he just lies there and breathes in the stale air for a while. Obviously he’s at the Refuge, but the only room he knows of without windows is the basement. He’s fairly sure he’s not in the basement though, considering it’s got a dirt floor and he’s currently laying on what feels like concrete. His memory’s real fuzzy, so Jack tries to piece together exactly how he got here.    

 

_When Pulitzer had come down to the cellar in the morning with the Delancey brothers in tow, Jack knew he’d end up in pain. He had to question his own sanity when he’d laughed at the look on Pulitzer’s face upon declining his offer. Of course, the laugh hadn’t lasted for long with the Delancey brothers there. One of them promptly punched him across his left cheek before tackling him to the ground and continuing the beating where they’d left off some hours before. At some point, Pulitzer must have left the room because what felt like hours later, and it may have well been hours later, Jack noticed him walking back in to the room with the Spider in tow. The whole thing ended with Jack on the ground; Morris kneeling across Jack’s calves and twisted to hug his arms around Jack’s chest and upper arms while Oscar cuffed Jack’s hands together._

_He’d been led out of the Pulitzer mansion and practically thrown in to a waiting carriage, the Spider and one of his thugs climbing in right after him. As far as he can remember, the ride itself was calm and uneventful. At least physically; mentally he’d been all over the place what with having to share such a confined space with the Spider and everything._

_Then they’d arrived at the Refuge, a place Jack had never wanted to see again, much less be trapped inside. The thug had reached across the carriage from where he was sitting next to the Spider to tightly grab the short chain joining Jack’s cuffs, holding him in the carriage until the Spider was out and through the Refuge doors. Then the thug yanked Jack out of the carriage along with him, nearly causing Jack to fall to his knees when he’d jumped out. From there it had been a familiar walk straight through the front door, down a set of stairs, and in to the basement. He’d looked around as much as he could on the short walk with hopes of getting a glimpse of Crutchie, be had no such luck._

_He’d been left alone in the basement by himself for a while. In the darkness, Jack had no way of even guessing of how much time had passed. He didn’t bother moving off the floor where he’d landed; he’d been locked in the basement loads of times before and there was certainly no way to escape from there. Besides, he wasn’t planning on leaving unless he had Crutchie with him. After a long while, two of Snyder’s thugs come down with a small candle. Jack could almost laugh at the thought of them bringing a candle just so they could see themselves destroy him. He could put up a good fight normally, but in the dark with his hands still cuffed? It got a lot harder._

_They took up right where the Delanceys left off, but they weren’t as familiar with Jack as the Delanceys and that resulted in him getting a few good, if awkward, hits in as well. Well, at least until he took a hard hit to the head courtesy of some sort of club. He hadn’t seen exactly what hit him, but it had definitely been more solid than a first._

 

Jack winces and reaches his hand up to where he remembers being hit to feel a pretty good-sized bump forming.

 

The rest of the evening is very much still a blur to Jack; only bit and pieces coming to him. At some point during the tussling, something sharp had slashed across the bottom his foot. Jack thinks he remembers screaming. After that, he thinks the two thugs yelled at each other for a bit while he lay curled up on the ground. Then Jack had been forced upright and half walked, half dragged out of the basement to be thrown into wherever he was now. He thinks. Everything after the hit to the head is _very_ fuzzy.

 

Having mostly pieced together how he’d ended up in this room, Jack decides its time to do what he can for his injuries, starting with his foot. Since acknowledging the pain there, he hasn’t been able to will himself in to ignorance again. His foot feels hot and pulsates with pain.

 

Still lying on the ground, Jack tries to sit up without the assistance of his hands, but his muscles cry out in protest and refuse to get him all the way up and in to a sitting position. He’s forced to twist his upper body sideways so that he can plant his hands on the ground and push himself up. He internally curses at himself when he lets out a small yelp of pain when he twists. Yep, at least one of his ribs is messed up already. Messed up ribs were an inevitable side effect of his visits to the Refuge, though they normally took longer to appear.

 

He edges himself backwards until his back is planted against the wall. He sits there for a moment just breathing before slowly bending his left leg so his ankle sits across his right thigh. Shifting his hands from his lap, Jack reaches out to poke around his foot. All he can tell at first is that there’s blood all over, not even dry yet either, which means his foot is probably still bleeding and the injury decently worrisome. Pushing himself to just find the wound and get it over with, he shifts his hand towards the front of his foot by his toes, where he can feel a gash running all the way across the pad of his foot.   He has to bite his lip from yelling in pain at the touch and yanks his hands back to his lap. Jack takes some deep breaths to try and clear his head and refocus.

 

Cursing under his breath, Jack knows he’s got to at least cover the wound, or it’ll get filled with dirt whenever he’s taken down to the basement next. His return there is inevitable, he’d be kidding himself if he thought the Spider was done sending him down there for “correction”. He knows there’s already a hole formed in the underarm seam of his shirt, so he awkwardly reaches up with his hand – the other one forced to follow because of the cuffs – and works at ripping the whole sleeve off. He hopes there’s enough room to slip it off under the cuff, otherwise he’s going to have to work at ripping it at the other seam too.

 

Eventually, Jack is sitting with his shirtsleeve crumpled in his hand. For once, he was thankful the material of his outer shirt was thin. He’d barely been able to slide it off his arm under the cuff, but he’d eventually succeeded in freeing his makeshift bandage. Now came the hard, but necessary part: wrapping his foot and tying the bandage as tight as he could. Jack bites the inside of his cheek, tasting a little blood, as he works to get the task over with. Pain now meant hopefully no infection in the future. Hopefully.

 

Upon finishing, Jack leans back up against the wall, his breathes coming a bit short. He’s not given the chance to settle his breathing properly though, because the door to his little room is suddenly slamming open. The bright light is too much for his eyes to bear after being consumed by darkness for so long, so Jack squeezes them shut before slowly open them just enough to squint at the person standing in the doorframe. Spider.

 

Jack uses the wall to shuffle in to a standing position as best as he can, not wanting Snyder to be at the advantage. He draws in a quick breathe to keep himself from screaming when he accidentally puts his full weight on his left foot. Jack’s forced to put most of his weight on his right foot and lean on the wall more heavily for support than he’d ever admit. Arms raised in from of him in as best a defense position he can manage, Jack spits out, “What do you want Spider?”

 

The Spider laughs. The laugh booms and echoes around the little room and makes Jack feel sick to his stomach. “You liking your new room? I’ve had a long time to think about how to keep you from escaping this time Jack.” The way the Spider emphasizes his name sends shivers up his spine. “And I think this will keep you from going too far.” Snyder is stepping in to the room now, within arms-reach from Jack. “But just in case, I figured I’d keep these locked securely around your wrists,” he reaches out and yanks on the small chain joining Jack’s cuffs, pulling Jack from his precarious position against the wall.

 

Jack growls, “You can’t do that, ” before yanking the chain out of the Spider’s hands. Unfortunately, he unbalances himself with the sharp movement and slides down the wall to rest on the ground.

 

Snyder’s laughing at him again, coming closer, standing over him. Jack’s breathing is speeding up with every moment Snyder looms over him. He tries to hide the wince on his face when he sees Synder’s hand coming down towards him, but his face is spared from the blow he thought was coming. Instead, the Spider’s hands are on his cuffs again, clicking them tighter so the metal is no longer floating around Jack’s wrists but digging in to his skin. Snyder chuckles while he watches Jack’s face contort with pain as he struggles to not cry out at the sudden increase of pressure. Jack’s determined to give him as little satisfaction as possible.

 

“Now boy, I need you to listen to me and remember what I say.” Snyder’s face is entirely too close to his now and he’s trying to find anywhere else to look. The blow he’d been expecting just moments earlier finally comes, striking Jack across the bruise already forming on his left cheekbone. It’s followed by an angry demand from Snyder, “Look at me when I’m talking to you boy. You should know the rules better than anyone by now.”

 

Jack shakily turns to look at the Spider, who is now standing over him. He may act tough in front of the guys, but he can’t help but notice how he’s shaking right now. Snyder’s got the definite upper hand and that makes him incredibly uncomfortable and nervous.

 

“Now Jack. While I’m very happy to have you right here next to my office, I still have business to attend to and I will not tolerate any outbursts. Is that understood?” It’s not until Snyder says it that Jack looks behind Snyder and realizes that the room just beyond the doorframe is indeed Snyder’s office, as clean and plush looking as ever.

 

Snyder clears his throat when Jack doesn’t answer soon enough. “Yes.” Jack growls. Snyder kicks him in the ankle. “Sir,” Jack appends.

 

“Now there’s the good boy I know you can be. Oh, and if you do decide to interrupt me while I’m working, I’ll just send someone upstairs to visit your little crippled friend, does that sound okay?” Snyder is walking out of the room now, laughing again.

 

“Don’t you dare-“ Jack starts screaming at the man, but the door is swung back in the place, enveloping Jack in darkness with only the brief echoes of the Spider’s laugh to keep him company. He thinks he can hear the rough sounds of metal scraping against metal as a lock clicks in to place on the other side of the door. With that, Jack feels himself filling with despair because knows he’s not going to be able to break out from inside this room and it doesn’t sound like Snyder has any plans of moving him out of it anytime soon. And if he can’t get himself out of this room, there’s no way he’s going to be able to find Crutchie and get him out.

 

Jack must have dozed off at some point because he’s startled awake by a large thud. He feels himself tense up, worried that the Spider has decided to send his thugs for him again already. The sound isn’t followed by any further sounds suggesting the door is opening though, so Jack allows himself to relax. However, he does hear something that sounds like voices on the other side of the door.

 

Immensely curious as to what exactly Snyder has meetings about and tired of being left alone with his thoughts, Jack scoots around the edge of the room to press his ear against the door.   It takes a moment but he hears Snyder ask, ‘Any last name to go with that, kid?’ Jack recognizes the question as one from the check-in process, and briefly wonders if Snyder is going to bother doing it with him this time. Some poor new kid must’ve been brought in today.

 

When he hears the kid’s response, ‘Not that I remembers’, he freezes. He knows that voice. That’s his Crutchie, but why was he just being checked in now?. He presses his ear impossibly closer to the door, listening to the two discusses Crutchie’s age.

 

He internally groans when he hears Snyder tell Crutchie: ‘You’d do best by not following that urchin. He’s no good’, but smiles at Crutchie’s quick response and misses the next bit Snyder says. The next thing he catches is, ‘Kelly and all those other newsboys have been chased out of town by Mr.Pulitzer anyways.’ It feels like his heart stops beating for a moment, the desire to yell out to Crutchie that it's not true and he’s right here, just a door between them is impossibly hard to repress.   Only Snyder’s earlier threat is keeping him quiet. He knows Snyder would be more than happy to hear him yell out and then beat Crutchie right then and there where Jack could hear and do nothing to stop it. Ultimately, Crutchie’s better off safe and not knowing Jack is right here than any alternative.

 

Lost to his internal battle, Jack again misses out on part of the conversation; only catching what seems to be the end of it with, ‘Now get back to your bunk’, followed by the sound of Crutchie leaving and a door closing. He hears Snyder’s heavy footsteps walk back around the room and the groan of his chair as he takes a seat.  

 

Jack lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding upon realizing Crutchie is away from Snyder, at least for now. He slides away from the door and back to his spot in the rear of the room, pulling his right knee to his chest and looping his arms around it.

 

Jack’s thoughts consume him. Crutchie had been _right there_ on the other side of the door and he had just sat there in silence. He hadn’t done anything to even let Crutchie know he wasn’t alone. Thanks to Snyder, Crutchie now thinks he and all the boys have ran off and left him here alone. Knowing Snyder, that was probably the closest he was going to let Jack get to Crutchie and the only chance he was going to get to let his friend know he was here too. And he’s wasted it. If only Snyder had threatened him with a beating instead of Crutchie; then he could have done it. He would have yelled out; made sure Crutchie heard him. Then his best friend would at least know he wasn’t forgotten.

 

Jack curls over to rest his head on his knee. It’s a poor attempt at hiding the tears of frustration streaming down his face. He’s not even sure who he’s hiding the tears from, considering he’s locked away in a dark room by himself, but it feels safer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummmm....so sorry this is later than I expected? I sort of got stuck binge-watching the second season of Smash. 
> 
> As always, comments/suggestions appreciated!


	7. Davey

**Davey**

The time until the strike passed slowly, even though it really wasn’t that much time at all. Les’s hourly countdown certainly wasn’t helping. Davey fought the desire to knock him across the head for his exuberance over something that could potentially end very badly for them and their friends. His brother’s spirit is hard broken though. Every time they turn a corner while selling papers, Davey peers around looking for a sign that Pulitzer’s found out about the strike and has sent his goons out to get them; Les looks around expecting Jack to magically pop back up. Not that Davey wouldn’t be happy and relieved to see his friend suddenly appear, he’s just trying to be realistic.

 

Katherine has spent the last couple of days at Medda’s, putting together some sort of plan and otherwise just trying to stay away from her father. Davey’s been walking her back to her home every evening on the pretense that a lady like herself should not be out alone after dark, but really just because he needs a break from the opposing exuberance of Les and the ramping nerves of the other newsies. He can tell Katherine is quietly confident in their future success, but also worried about the possible consequences. He thinks she’s also worried about Jack and Crutchie along with him.

 

The rest of the newsies handled the wait in their own ways, but the one thing Davey could see in all of them was a polarizing mixture of hope and loss. It seemed most apparent in Race, who Davey is pretty sure has not slept since the meeting they’d had about reorganizing the strike. When he’d tried to ask him if he was okay and if there was anything he could do to help him out, Race had tiredly laughed at him, stuck a cigar in his mouth, and walked away. Specs had come up to him afterwards and explained, “He’s just got too much circling his mind right now. He’s trying to be the leader in Jack’s absence, but that just reminds him Jack is missing. Then it reminds him Jack is in the Refuge, which just circles him back to trying to cover him as leader. It’s too much.” Specs had paused to wipe his glasses on his shirt before continuing, “On top of all that, the Refuge is in that circle of thoughts and he just doesn’t like thinking about that.” Davey hadn’t had a response to that.

 

The morning of the strike, Davey wakes before Les. Or maybe he hadn’t fallen asleep at all. He’s not sure. There is just too much on his mind, and admittedly, some nerves bouncing around. He sits up in bed and momentarily debates leaving now before Les wakes. He discards the idea almost immediately. Les would just go out on his own and then Davey wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on him.

 

Davey wakes Les easily before dressing in his nicer shirt and waistcoat, trying to look his best. If all goes well, he and Race will be in Pulitzer’s office later today and he wants to make sure he appeared as a leader. Les finishes dressing before him, not as concerned with how presentable he looks, and impatiently waits for Davey to finish fussing.

 

They head towards the boarding house instead of the distribution gate. The plan is to meet up with the rest of New York’s newsies there before moving on to the square to strike. Along the way, they would all pass on the word to any other working kids who hadn’t gotten the message yet or who were too scared to join in. The idea was that if they saw the large numbers of kids heading to strike, they hopefully would overcome any fears of joining in.

 

There is already a large gathering of newsies outside the boarding house when they arrive, most of them ones Davey doesn’t recognize. They must be from the other boroughs, he concludes. Davey weaves his way through the crowd towards the front, where Race and Spot are standing atop the steps, conversing. He awkwardly stands to the side of the pair, not wanting to interrupt them but wanting to make them aware of his arrival.

 

Davey turns his back to the pair while they finish their conversation, not wanting to eavesdrop, and looks around the newsies gathered at the front to try and find a partner for Les to hang out with if, no when, he went in to Pulitzer’s office. He’d prefer to keep Les at his side, but he most definitely could not bring him anywhere near Pulitzer. Les had no filter, and was liable to say something that would ruin everything. He spots Jojo, the only newsie who could smile as consistently as Les, sitting down on the second to last step. Davey walks down to sit beside him, and quietly asks, “Hey Jojo?”

 

Jojo looks over towards him, a large smile slipping across his face as his hair falls in to his eyes. “You’s want me to watch out for Les today?” He teases, poking Davey in the arm.

 

“How’d you guess?” Davey tries to match Jojo’s persistent smile and playful demeanor, but he’s pretty sure he failed.

 

Jojo laughs and his smile somehow gets wider. “Les is a great kid and all, but he likes to talk. A lot.” He laughs again. “And he doesn’t knows when to shut up yet. Figured he’s not someone you want near Pulitzer.”

 

Davey puts his hand on Jojo’s shoulder and playfully nudges him, “Do you mind watching him? And returning him home, you know, if…” He trails off. He doesn’t think that things will fall against them today, but he wants to prepared for the worst.

 

Jojo’s face slips in to rare seriousness for a moment, “Things are going to go great for us today, don’t you worries.” He punches Davey in the arm as his smile takes over his face again, “And I don’t mind. Les is the only other one around here who knows how to be happy.”

 

“Thanks.” Davey says, before turning to check if Race and Spot finished their conversation. The pair is now standing in silence, Spot glaring out at the crowd of gathered newsies. Davey hops up to stand beside them, nudging Les towards Jojo, who makes a funny face at Les before ruffling his hair and pulling him down to sit at his side.

 

“Where’s the journalist girl?” Spot asks, looking a bit annoyed.

 

“She’s got a plan to help us win. She’s going to meet us at Pulitzer’s office.” Davey answers. Spot crosses his arms.

 

“Should we get goin’?” Race asks.

 

Davey is about to answer that yes, they should get going, but Spot cups his hands to his mouth and shouts out to the crowd, “Newsies of New York!” The crowd of boys almost immediately falls in to silence and Spot smiles at his own effectiveness. “Time to get movin! Don’t forget to grab every working kid you can along the way!” The crowd obediently starts marching off through the streets towards Newsie square. Davey catches a glimpse of Les and Jojo running off, laughing and mimicking Spot as they go.

 

The normally twenty minute walk to newsie square takes them an hour. Davey walks with Race and Spot at back of the mob of newsies. The hope is that by the time they reach the square, the gathering of children outside will have annoyed Pulitzer enough that he will be receptive to talking to them.

 

Upon their arrival, Newsie Square is packed. Davey doesn’t think any more kids could possibly fit, but they are still streaming in on all sides. He glances over at Spot and Race. Race has a huge smile plastered across his face and mumbles out, “They actually showed up.” Spot smirks and starts pushing his way through the crowd. Davey stays just behind Race and Spot as they make their way towards the front. He’s afraid the crowd will swallow him if he doesn’t stick to them.

 

Once at the front by the doors to Pulitzer’s building, Davey turns to admire the crowd of children gathered. He feels his hope rising that the plan will actually be successful. He can hear some of the newsies, maybe Romeo and Albert, trying to start up a chant of sorts amongst the gathered children.

 

His thoughts are interrupted by Spot pounding on the doors behind him and shouting, “Pulitzer! We knows you in there!” He pauses, smirking, before finishing with, “We’s ready to talk when you ares!”

 

It’s no more than ten minutes later when the doors abruptly open and they are lead in to the building and straight up a flight of stairs to another pair of doors, which have the Delancey brothers stationed outside. One of the brothers crookedly smiles and greets them with, “Oh, look. They’ve come to talk with the big man just like little Jacky boy did.” He turns to his brother and asks, “You think Pulitzer’s gonna let us soak them and send them off to the Refuge too?” They both laugh.

 

Davey feels his heart drop. He trusted what Katherine had told him about the evening Jack had disappeared, but having it confirmed by the guys who beat him up before shipping him off hurt.

 

“Shut up,” Spot’s voice commands from behind him. He hadn’t even realized Spot had followed Race and him inside, but is happy he did. The Delancey brothers actually do shut up and even edge a couple inches further away from the trio. Apparently the King of Brooklyn can strike fear even in to the likes of the Delancey brothers.

 

They all stand in silence until one of the doors opens just enough for a women’s head to poke out to say, “Mr. Pulitzer will see you now.” They all follow her in and Davey hopes Katherine arrives soon with her plan, which she had refused to tell him the details of. He doesn’t know how long they can stall with Pulitzer if they have to wait for her to arrive.

 

Mr. Pulitzer is sitting behind his desk, rubbing his temple with his fingers. Davey smiles. They’ve gotten Pulitzer either worried or stressed or both and all of those work in their favor. He can hear the sounds of the gathered kids chanting from outside.

 

Pulitzer finally raises his head and says, “I presume you are the remaining leaders of the newsboys union?”

 

Davey steps forward and affirms, “Yes sir. I am Davey and this is Race and Spot.” He motions to his companions as he names them before reaching his hand out for a handshake. Pulitzer just glares at his hand, so he slowly retracts it and stuffs it in his pocket.

 

The older gentleman rises to walk around his desk and lean against it, scratching at his facial hair. He opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by shouting from outside his office doors. Davey smiles when he recognizes Katherine yelling, “I am his daughter! You will let me in _now_!” before the doors are thrown open. Davey’s jaw drops open when he sees Governor Roosevelt march past Katherine and in to the room. He wonders how on Earth Katherine managed to get him here. Katherine and Medda stay standing off to the side by the doors.

 

Davey can hear Race whispering, “Is that really…?” behind him.

 

“Joseph, Joseph, Joseph. What have you done now?” Governor Roosevelt asks as he walks forward to stand at Davey’s side.

 

“Theodore Roosevelt. Come all this way just because the children of New York are collectively throwing a tantrum?” Pulitzer taunts, obviously not pleased with being addressed by his first name.

 

If the governor has similar sentiments about Pulitzer addressing his by his first name, he doesn’t show it. In fact, he laughs, “Don’t you have kids of your own Joseph? I know you do for a fact actually, considering _your daughter_ was the one to come get me today. Remarkable young lady by the way.” Davey looks back to see Katherine blush. “This is not a tantrum. The crowd outside your office may be young, but they are striking just as efficiently, maybe more so, than many of the adult strikes we have been witnessing lately.”

 

“This is not efficient by any means!” Pulitzer yells in rebuttal, rising from his leaning position against his desk to stand and jab a finger towards the room’s sole window, which the gathered crowd can bee seen through.

 

“Really? I think it is. They’ve got the town shut down, got you cornered in your office with their representatives and every other business in town is placing the blame on you. Pretty damn efficient if you ask me.” The Governor smiles and straightens his coat.

 

Pulitzer growls, observing how he’s been cornered both figuratively and literally. He takes a moment before asking, “May I speak with the boys _alone_? Please?”

 

It comes out as more of a command than a request, but Davey answers, “Absolutely. We’d love to finally discuss terms with you.”

 

Before turning to leave the room as Pulitzer had requested, the governor surprises Davey by turning to him and putting his hand on his shoulder. Looking him in the eyes, the older gentleman says, “You’ve got this kid.” He gives Davey’s shoulder a small shake before heading around him and out of the room.

 

Once the door slams shut, Pulitzer begins with, “I can’t …”

 

Spot cuts him off, “Nah. It’s not that you can’t. It’s that you won’t. You don’t want everyone else to see ya beat by a load of kids.”

 

“If we were your reporters, you would have talked with us, not sent our union leader off to the Refuge.” Davey retorts, suddenly angry at Pulitzer’s nonchalance and feeling empowered by the governor’s presence.

 

“Your friend,” Pulitzer growls, “was sent off to the Refuge to finish off his previous sentences. He’s a wanted criminal and the Refuge is where he belongs.”

 

“What about Crutchie, then?” Race finally interjects. “He ain’t got no previous sentences.” Race mimics Pulitzer with the last few words and Davey almost laughs.

 

“As far as I understand he was arrested for loitering.” Pulitzer smiles.

 

“That’s bullshit.” Spot asserts. “You had him arrested for opposing you and you knows it.”  

 

Pulitzer sighs and says, “If I promise to have him released, while you end this strike nonsense? Every day this stretches on, I lose more money.”

 

“How about you put the price of the paper back where it was _and_ release Crutchie?” Davey angrily suggests. He wasn’t going to let Pulitzer sidetrack this deal conversation. “And it’s your own fault your losing money. You’re losing money because your circulation is down and your circulation is down because _your_ newsboys can’t afford enough papers to reach their normal customers. On top of that, they’re too scared to buy any extra because they can’t afford to eat if they take too many losses.” Davey’s internally fuming now, but is trying his best to remain composed.

 

“I can’t put the price of the paper back where it was.” Pulitzer relents, finally beginning an actual discussion. “I can cut the raise by half and see what I can do about your friend,” he offers.

 

Davey ponders for a moment, wondering exactly how much wiggle room he realistically has to negotiate with. The first rule of negotiating is to ask for more than you think you’ll get. Demanding Crutchie’s release and trying for Jack’s is a no-brainer. The price also has to decrease, which Pulitzer is already offering. He thinks back to his first day as a newsie before countering with, “How about you get both Crutchie _and_ Jack released, decrease the raise by half, _and_ you buy back any papers we don’t sell.” He sees Pulitzer about to interrupt at his last point, but continues with, “Buying our extra papers back is just good business. You make more money by increasing your circulation. Your circulation increases when you allow newsies to try and sell more papers without taking the risk of not being able to afford dinner or a bed at the lodging house that evening.” Davey stares down Pulitzer, daring him to re-counter.

 

Pulitzer scratches his facial hair and looks thoughtful for a moment before finally replying with, “I agree to halve the price increase and to buy back unsold papers at the end of the day.” He pauses. “I will also see to it that Mr. Snyder releases your friend Crutchie tomorrow. But I can promise nothing regarding Jack Kelly. He may have been here discussing your rally when he was arrested again, but his arrest was for previous crimes that have nothing to do with me or your rally.” He glares at Davey specifically. “That is my final offer.”

 

Davey turns to face Spot and Race. He’s not happy that they’re getting nowhere with regards to Jack, but he thinks it is the best offer that they’re going to get out of Pulitzer. He tells them as much.

 

Race’s face falls, his cigar threatening to fall out of his mouth. “We can’t jus forget about Jack. We’s can’t just leave him there.”

 

Spot reassuringly places his hand on Race’s shoulder, whispering, “Once Jack knows Crutchie’s out, he’s just gotta worry about getting himself out. And he’s done that loads before.” He looks at Davey, “If we don’t take this offer on his account and he finds out, he’ll have it out for us. I agrees that we should take this offer.”

 

Davey nods, still unhappy with Jack’s status in all of this, and turns to face Pulitzer again. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” He spits in to his hand and holds it out. He shivers, still hating this ritual, but doing it on the behalf of all the other newsboys who still very much respect it.

 

Pulitzer’s face twists in disgust. “That’s disgusting.” Davey keeps his face set and doesn’t respond, given his similar sentiments.

 

From behind him, Davey hears Race say, “That’s how deals is done.”

 

Pulitzer groans before finally repeating the motion and shaking Davey’s hand. Davey waits until Pulitzer turns away to wipe his hand on his pants, trying to get rid of the gross feeling.

 

Pulitzer goes and opens his office doors to signal everyone else should come back in. Katherine runs straight to Davey, giving him a long hug. She whispers, “I heard every word. You did well. I’m sad about Jack, but you got more from my father than I thought was possible.” She releases him from the hug to give him a small smile. Davey smiles back and suppresses a laugh at the thought of Katherine pressing her ear to her father’s office doors to listen in on the negotiations.

 

Their little conversation is interrupted by Pulitzer clearing his throat, “Are you pleased Mr. Roosevelt? We’ve come to a deal. You can go and leave me alone now.”

 

Roosevelt laughs, “If I knew my mere presence would be enough to annoy you, I would have come sooner!” Pulitzer scowls. “After everything you wrote trying to keep me out of office, I’ll stretch this out as long as I can.” He heartedly laughs again. “To get me out of your hair, you can put three copies of the deal in writing. One for me, one for you, and one for the intelligent gentleman right here,” he says, gesturing to Davey. Davey blushes at the compliment. “Then you can announce it to the crowd outside so they can all be happy and I can get back to my carriage.”

 

So that’s what they do. With Spot and Race’s permission, Davey signs the three copies of the deal on the union’s behalf in Jack’s absence. He carefully tucks his copy away in the pocket of his waistcoat as Spot and Pulitzer wander over to the balcony to announce the terms of the deal to the crowd still gathered outside. Governor Roosevelt and Medda slip out of the room, apparently satisfied that Pulitzer is going through with his demands.

 

Race hovers at his left, looking exhausted, but less stressed than he had previously. Katherine stands to his right, arms crossed and face blank.

 

“At least Crutchie’s getting out tomorrow.” She finally says, watching Pulitzer and Spot yell down to the crowd from the balcony. Davey hears a cheer from below. “Can I…” Katherine begins saying. “Can I wait for him with you guys tomorrow?” Davey wonders why she feels the need to ask.

 

Race answers with, “I don’t see whys not. Crutchie likes you fine.” He chews on his cigar thoughtfully. “I thinks it’s the first time we’s ever knew when someone was getting out.”

 

“Wait, what do you mean you’ve never known when someone was getting released before?” Katherine questions, looking and sounding a bit shocked.

 

“They don’t exactly tells you how long you’s in there for. Even if they did ‘s not like theres any way to tells anyone outside when to look for ya.” Race reaches for his cigar and stuffs it in his pocket. “Anyways, Jack’s the one who’s in there the most and he just leaves when he can.” Katherine remains silent and Davey swears he can see her thoughts whirring around in her head. He wonders what she’s planning.

 

There’s a louder, longer cheer from outside and Spot and Pulitzer return from the balcony. Spot is smiling larger than Davey had thought possible for him.

 

“Now that the strike is officially over, you can leave my office and get back to work.” Pulitzer commands as he takes his seat behind his desk. “Katherine, stay. I need to speak with you.”

 

Davey turns to say goodbye to Katherine, but she waves him off as she walks closer to her father’s desk. He follows Spot and Race down the stairs and out the front of the building to join the massive crowd of hollering newsies, many of whom take the time to individually thank him for helping. Les eventually runs up with Jojo trailing behind him to hug him too, beaming. The crowd is overwhelming, but Davey stays to savor in their victory, even if it doesn’t feel complete without the guarantee of Jack’s release as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments/suggestion appreciated!


	8. Crutchie

**Crutchie**

 

Crutchie has lost track of how many days he’s been here. Except for that one day where they’d all been ordered downstairs to clean, Crutchie has not left this room. He’s watched some of the more defiant kids get dragged out by Snyder’s thugs a couple of times. They mostly are returned by the time Crutchie wakes up from his next sleep. He sometimes thinks he can hear them screaming from wherever they are taken off to, but he tries to shake off the unpleasant idea.   

 

Mouse, that’s what he’s decided to call the young Jack look-alike, on account of how quiet he’s kept and the fact that he keeps picking up and playing with the mice that scuttle across the floor, has stayed glued to his side since his arrival. Crutchie’s eternally grateful for Mouse’s presence. Snyder’s words, specifically, ‘Kelly and all those other newsboys have been chased out of town’, have been haunting him. Mouse keeps him from dwelling on those thoughts for too long, normally by lifting his most recently captured mouse up in front of Crutchie’s face and nearly startling him off the bed, but in the end he doesn’t mind. There’s no use dwelling on things he can’t do anything about.

 

The first time he’d heard Mouse speak, it was nighttime and the moon was casting odd shadows about the room through the bars on the windows, and they were about to lie down to sleep. He’d asked for a story. Crutchie had said, “Sure”, right off the bat, before realizing he didn’t really have any stories to tell. He’d honestly been too excited to finally hear the young boy speak that he hadn’t considered the fact he didn’t really have any good bedtime stories to tell.

 

So he told stories about Jack and the other boys at the boarding house. There was the one time Albert had lost his shoe in the middle of the day while selling papes, only to find it waiting for him under his bed when he’d returned home that evening. There was also a story to be told about the time Jack and Race had ran in to Spot Conlon for the first time, though that one he was telling second-hand, having not been there himself. He talked about the day he and Jack met. He may have not had many normal bedtime stories to tell, but Mouse seemed more than pleased with his stories about Jack and the boarding house boys. Crutchie’s not entirely sure whether or not Mouse understands that the stories really happened, but he continues telling them regardless.

 

Crutchie’s in the middle of telling Mouse another story about Jack when the door to the room slams open again. Before he can get himself standing upright at the side of his bed, Snyder has stormed in to the room and grabbed Crutchie by the arm. The man starts pulling him along beside him and out the door of the room, Crutchie struggles to keep his crutch under him and keep up with the man’s longer strides. He thinks he hears Mouse crying as he leaves, but rejects the thought immediately. Mouse was too quiet to be heard over all the other boys’ ruckus as they clamored about his abrupt removal.

 

Once outside the room, Crutchie is released and thrown against the hallway wall while Snyder turns and relocks the door to the room. Crutchie’s heart is pounding so hard he fears it might break through his chest and plop out on to the floor. He wonders what exactly he’d done wrong to have Snyder after him, but is too scared to ask. Before he can muster up any courage to even try and ask, Snyder has him by the arm again and they are heading down the stairs. The grip on his arm tightens, painfully so, as they continue down the hallway towards the front doors. Snyder deftly unlocks them and tosses Crutchie through without a word.

 

Crutchie doesn’t get the chance to question what is happening as he’s suddenly tumbling down the front steps of the Refuge, his crutch making it to the bottom of the steps before him. He thinks he hears the door slamming shut and locking behind him.

 

There are feet rushing towards him. He can tell both by the sound of them slapping against the pavement and by the glimpses of brown leather newsie boots he gets as he raises his head from the ground and blinks his eyes clear. He’s reaching for his crutch when it is thrust in to his hands along with, “Come on, let’s get away from here.” As Crutchie is pushing himself to his feet and situating his crutch in it’s familiar spot under his arm, he finally looks up and sees the person rushing him is Race. His cigar is missing and his eyes are wide with a mix of concern and terror.

 

Still fazed by everything that’s just happened, Crutchie hobbles after Race until they are outside the gates of the Refuge yard. Crutchie is greeted there by Katherine, who envelopes him in a soft hug and offers, “I’m so glad you’re out, Crutchie.”

 

She looks like she’s about to say more, but she’s cut off by Race saying, “Yeahs. It’s not the same without ya.”

 

Crutchie, still in shock over what’s just transpired, says, “I don’t understand. I’m happy I’m out and all, but how’d you make that happen?” He then turns to Race specifically and says, “And how’s you still in New York? Where-“

 

He’s cut off by Race saying, “Not here. We needs to get aways from this place. We’s can go find a park or somewhere else ta talk.” He starts walking off without any confirmation from Crutchie or Katherine.

 

Crutchie understands Race’s feelings towards the Refuge, but he doesn’t see why they have to walk so far away from it before they can talk. They walk several blocks before coming across a small corner park, where Race and Crutchie take a seat on the span of grass, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight. Katherine had run off, murmuring something about food, and left the two boys to their own devices.

 

Crutchie leans back in the grass, shutting his eyes and just enjoying the warmth of the sun against his skin. He’s tired. They probably hadn’t walked more than ten blocks from the Refuge and towards the end he had been struggling to keep up. Ten blocks was nothing compared to what a day in the life of the newsie entailed. Even if he had managed to get pushed out of the Refuge relatively unharmed, he still wasn’t the same. The thought hurts him. He’d seen his brothers return from the Refuge in must worse shape than he was in now. He had no right to complain.

 

His thoughts drift to Mouse, wondering how he’s doing all by himself. He hopes one of the other boys will sit with him, but he sadly doubts it. Thinking about how he’d left Mouse, about to tell him another story about Jack, he’s reminded of Jack. And how he’s not here with them. He knows the boys have all been chased out of New York, except Race somehow, but he’d figured Jack wouldn’t have cut off contact completely. And if Race had heard about him being released, surely Jack would have gotten word somehow?

 

Crutchie’s mind is swirling with unanswered questions when he finally breaches the silence to ask, “Hey Race?” Race turns to look at him, cigar in his mouth once again. “How’d you both knows I was getting out today. And where’s Jack? Is-“

 

He’s once again cut off by Race, whose face has soured, “I thinks we’s should wait for Katherine. She’s got everything.”

 

Crutchie’s left to wonder which question had switched Race’s mood so suddenly. His mind provides possible answers for him as they continue to wait for Katherine. She arrives no more than ten minutes later with a couple brown bags, stuffing one each in Race’s and Crutchie’s hands and ordering, “Eat. Please.” She plops down on the ground between them and opens her own bag.

 

Crutchie opens his own bag to find a sandwich and an apple. He knows he should be hungry, considering how little he’d eaten in the Refuge, but he’s not really. He takes out the apple and rolls it between his hands a bit, fiddling with it, before taking a small bite. The flavor of the apple is more than he’d remembered and his mouth tingles a little bit at its sweet juices. He glances over to Race to see him picking at his sandwich, looking distracted. Katherine’s yet to even pull anything out of her bag, just leaving it open on the ground in front of her to stare at.

 

“Crutchie?” Katherine asks. She looks at him, sadness and anxiety clearly written on her face. “I have…I have to ask. How was Jack? I know the Delancey-“

 

“Wait.” Crutchie interrupts. “I aint seen Jack.” Worry starts to bubble inside of him, increasing in intensity when he sees Katherine’s reaction.

 

“You’ve not seen him? I know he was sent to the Refuge. My father had him sent there and all but confirmed he was there during the meeting yesterday.” She whips around to Race, “There’s not other place like the Refuge he could be, is there?”

 

Race, having completely given up on eating his sandwich at this point, answers, “Not that I knows of. Refuge’s the only kids jail in New York.”

 

Katherine looks like she’s about to question Race more when Crutchie has to interrupt, “Wait. Explain why’s you think Jack should be in the Refuge cause I ain’t seen him the whole time I was there.”

 

Katherine rubs her eyes, to rid them of the beginning of tears, Crutchie thinks. He knows better than to mention it though. “After you were taken to the Refuge, Jack sort of gave up. Said he couldn’t put any more kids in danger.” Crutchie nods; that sounds exactly like Jack. “But Davey convinced him that the newsies were too close to winning to quit and Jack eventually saw his reasoning.” And yep, that sounded like Davey.

 

“So they organized a rally, where all the New York newsies could meet and plan. Then Jack got it in his head to invite Pulitzer –“

 

“Her father,” Race interjects.

 

“Yes, my father. I thought you had decided to forget about that?” She questions.

 

“Yeahs, but Crutchie got’s ta know and make his own decision,” Race remarks. Katherine looks to Crutchie and he just shrugs, urging her to continue. Sure, the news was surprising, but if living in the boarding house had taught him anything, you couldn’t judge kids on what their parents did. Otherwise there’s some newsies he’d probably be avoiding on account of what their parents were. That just wasn’t fair.

 

“Anyways, Jack decided to invite Pulitzer, _my father_ ,” she glares at Race, daring him to interrupt again, “to the rally.”

 

Crutchie groans, “Let me’s guess. He went alone and the meeting didn’t go so well?”

 

“You could say that. Pulitzer tried to offer him a deal where if he spoke out against the union at the rally, he would get enough money to make it to Santa Fe. Jack didn’t take it so he threatened to lock him and all the newsies up in the Refuge.”

 

“So is that where’s everyone else is? Cause I ain’t seen any of the other newsies while I was there.” Crutchie asks.

 

“No!” Katherine almost yells, before calming herself and more quietly continuing, “No. My father locked Jack up in the cellar with the Delancey brothers all night to try and get him to see his way. When the Delancey brothers went out for a smoke break, I went down and spoke to Jack through the door. He figured that if I were able to get word to all of the newsies to not go to the rally, then he would only have to get you out of the Refuge. But if you haven’t seen him…”

 

“I mean…” Race interjects, looking even more upset and a bit haunted. “Snyder could’a decided to just leave Jack in the basement this time. If Crutchie ain’t gone there, then he wouldn’t ‘a seen Jack.” Race worriedly chews on his cigar.

 

“I didn’t even knows there was a basement,” Crutchie stutters out, worried for his friend.

 

Katherine looks conflicted and more than a little upset. “So you’re saying it’s possible Jack is still at the Refuge, has been there this whole time, and Crutchie wouldn’t have heard or seen him?”

 

“Wells,” Race flinches. “He might’ve heard ‘im and not known it was him. The basement ain’t exactly a happy place.”

 

Katherine looks a little green and Crutchie leans over to lay his hand on her arm, hoping the contact will calm both of them a little bit. He glances over at Race, who has paled a bit as well. “You’s said that you’s had a meeting yesterday? With Pulitzer?” He’s desperate for any sort of good news at this point.

 

“Yeahs. Davey, Spot, and I’s went and made a deal with Pulitzer yesterday. The strikes over!” Race smiles a little, “That’s how we knews you would be gettin’ out. Part of the deal was Pulitzer gettin’ yous released today.”

 

“But if you knew Jack-“ Crutchie interjects, not happy that would negotiate for only his release.

 

“They tried Crutchie. They kept pushing for both of you, but my father claimed that since Jack was arrested to finish out his previous sentences there was nothing he could do.” She rolls her eyes at this, apparently not completely believing her father. “Unlike you, where it was pretty obvious you’d only been arrested for going against him.” Katherine lays her free hand over Crutchie’s, which is still resting on her other arm.

 

“Snyder...he tolds me that the strike was lost and that all the newsies had been chased out of the city,” Crutchie states. He’s not sure why. It just made sense to say it after what Katherine and Race had just revealed to him. Katherine pulls him in to a hug. Crutchie’s not exactly comfortable with the motion at this point, but he relents.

 

The moment is lost when Race exclaims, “Wait, you’s saw Snyder? You’s okay? You looks okay, but where’d he hurt ya?” Race repeatedly questions and Crutchie can almost feel Race methodically scanning him. Katherine even pushes him out of the hug to look him over herself.

 

Tired of being stared at, Crutchie gently pushes Katherine’s arms off of him and reassures, “He didn’t hurt me or nothing. I’s just had to go to his office and answer some questions and stuff.”

 

Race visibly relaxes a little bit, “Oh yeah, check in. I forgots about that.”

 

“Wait, Snyder checks you in?” Katherine questions, latching on to the new piece of information.

 

“Well yeahs. He’s got ta keep count on many of us is in there so he can tell the government how much money they needs to give him.” Race huffs, clearly not pleased with the arrangement.

 

“I looked overs the pages that were open when I hads to sign next to my information,” Crutchie vocalizes as he remembers how that meeting went down. “Theys waited a couple a days to sign me in, so Jack should’ve been signed in already and I didn’t see his name.”

 

“Pffffft.” Race interrupts Crutchie’s rambling. “That don’t mean nothin’. You said theys waited a couple a days to sign you in? They could’a waited longer ta sign Jack in.”

 

Race does have a point, but it certainly doesn’t make Crutchie feel any better. Synder said they’d waited a couple of days to sign him in because he’d been out cold when they’d delivered him to the Refuge. How bad could Jack be hurt if they had to wait to sign him in too? Crutchie glances over to see Katherine trying to hide her worry, and decides those thoughts are better left not said out loud. Instead, he tries to do what Jack would do and hide what he’s really thinking/feeling with, “I’s sure Jacks okay. He’s got out before.” He’s anything but sure, but she doesn’t need to know that.

 

Katherine lets out an insincere laugh. “Thanks Crutchie, but we all know that you’re worried about him. You don’t need to hide it.” Crutchie blushes. Apparently he’s not nearly as good as Jack when it comes to pretending things are fine.

 

“I’s sure you got a plan though, rights Katherine?” Race interrupts, looking minutely hopeful.

 

It’s Katherine’s turn to blush. “I have the beginnings of one. It’s not much though and it needs a lot of work.” She pauses, as if debating exactly how much to tell them. “I want to write an article, and in-depth piece, exposing all the cruelties and problems with The Refuge.”

 

Race looks at her bewildered, “How’s that supposed ta help?”

 

“Well, I’m hoping that by bringing attention to issue, there might be some public outrage and pressure to at least have the place checked out. The government doesn’t exactly like to throw money around if it’s not being used properly.” She pauses. “It’s not much, but it’s a start and it’s really all I’ve got right now.”

 

Crutchie and Race both nod, conceding that it was at least a good start. Crutchie also lets out a long yawn, not realizing how tired he actually was.

 

The yawn doesn’t go unnoticed by Katherine, “It’s getting late and you’re probably tired; I didn’t think of that. I’m sorry.” She stands, brushing the grass and dust off her skirt.

 

Crutchie is about to object that, yes, he is tired but this had been time well spent, getting caught up on everything, but Race also stands and says, “Yeahs Crutchie. I know all the boys are gonna be excited ta see ya and we don’t want ta keep them waitin’ up too late.”

 

Crutchie pastes on a smile, “Well we can’t keep ‘em waiting then, can we?” He takes Race’s hand when he offers it and uses the leverage to stand up.

 

Race picks up both Crutchie’s and his food, stuffing them both in to one bag. Katherine thrusts her bag in to his hand as well, stating, “I have dinner planned with Darcy this evening. If you guys won’t eat it, share it with the others. I’m sure someone will want it.” She looks at the pair one last time before saying, “I’ll probably be late as it is. Please take care boys, I’ll be around.” With that, she leaves them standing alone in the park.

 

Race awkwardly starts taking a couple of steps in the direction of the boarding house before looking back to notice Crutchie hasn’t started following yet. “I was serious, the guys are waitin’ up for ya.” He half-heartedly jokes.

 

Crutchie lets out a legitimate chuckle, “Okays, okays, I’s coming.” He slowly hobbles along at Race’s side, unsure of how he should be feeling right now. He’s tired, exhausted even. He’s happy he’s out and his friends are okay and the strike is won. He’s worried about Jack. He settles with just expressing his tiredness; the rest of it he can sort through later. That feels safe.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up the next chapter probably won't be posted until Friday/Saturday. Sorry.
> 
> As always, comments/questions/suggestions appreciated.


	9. Jack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: descriptions of violence

**Jack**

 

Jack cringes when some moldy bread is thrown in to his little room, sliding to a stop at his side. Why does he even bother calling this place a room? He should just call it what it is: a cell. Though there was no doubt it was his and his alone. Snyder has been very careful that the only people Jack has been allowed to see since arriving were himself and his goons. The lack of meaningful interaction is slowly killing him. He wonders how much longer he can go like this before it drives him crazy.

 

He’s starving, but he can only bring himself to nibble at the piece of bread and pick crumbs off to scatter on the floor. A pattern had begun to form over the last couple of days: they’d throw in some bread at some point during the day and then that evening he’d get taken down to the basement. Pain never feels good, except for the soft burn of bruised knuckles right after sucker punching someone like the Delancey brothers, but giving it a timeline somehow makes it worse. The anticipation of it coming gets his adrenaline running, but then it’s all run out and he’s exhausted by the time they eventually decide to come for him. It’s a vicious cycle.

 

Last time, he’d not eaten the bread and had left it in the back corner of his cell, figuring he could eat it whenever he was returned. It was a foolish hope. He should have known better than to think that. He’d searched for the piece of bread when he’d gotten back only to find his cell disappointingly empty.

 

Jack forces himself to take another small bite of the dry bread. He _knows_ he has to eat or else he won’t have any energy left and supposedly food helps your body heal and what not. One of his regulars, whom he figures must be a doctor, always likes to tell him that whenever he is sporting a particularly nasty looking bruise or cut. Actually, he normally lectures him that he should eat something healthy and this bread ain’t exactly healthy, but it’s all he’s got. So he keeps forcing himself to take small bites of the bread until its gone. He can’t say that he feels any better afterwards.

 

When he’s not forcing himself to eat or trying to force himself to sleep (sleep is supposed to be good for healing too, according to his regular _and_ Crutchie), Jack’s leaning up against the wall by the door, listening in to the going-ons of Snyder’s office. It’s mostly just new kids being brought in and Snyder getting their information for his records book. He always holds his breathe until he hears the kid’s name out of fear that one of his boys might have been brought in. He feels bad for thinking it, but maybe if one of his boys did get brought in, they’d be able to get Crutchie out for him. He shakes the thought as soon as he can. It’s bad enough Crutchie’s here. He doesn’t need any of his other boys being put through this place too. Snyder still hasn’t bothered to sit Jack down to sign him in this time and at this point; he doesn’t think it’ll ever happen.

 

At some point, one of Snyder’s goons had come in to the office and confessed he’d lost a kid. Apparently the kid had just vanished. They’d put him in a room and now he wasn’t there anymore. Snyder had been furious, screaming while pounding on something, and eventually delivering a punch to the goon’s face. Jack had needed to remind himself not to laugh, both for Crutchie’s and his ribs’ sake, but it was difficult considering how hilarious the situation was. He briefly wondered if this was Snyder’s reaction when he had managed to escape the last couple of times he’d been locked in this place. Jack had smiled when he’d seen the bruise on the goon’s face the next time they’d come for him. He’d even had the gall to bring it up to the goon in person, asking, “So you find that kid yet?” The look on the goon’s face had been worth the punch to the jaw he’d received in response.

 

Occasionally Snyder got phone calls, the shrill sound of the phone ringing inevitably waking Jack up if he’d managed to fall asleep. Snyder normally curses at the phone for startling him too though, and that makes it a little more worth waking up for. If he’s in the mood for it, Jack internally makes up the half of the conversation he can’t hear just to entertain himself. It’s fun pretending that Snyder is talking to a surely non-existent wife or child, made even more fun by the fact that the conversations make little to no sense. It reminds him a bit of improving the headlines when the front page is especially bad.  

 

It’s not until he’s woken by a vaguely familiar deep voice resounding from Snyder’s office through his cell door that he really tries to pay attention to the details of the conversation being held. Jack scowls and presses his ear to the door more firmly once he recognizes the intruding voice as Pulitzer’s. “My daughter apparently thinks I implied I would speak to you about releasing Kelly in the deal-“

 

Snyder cuts him off with a growling, “I’ve finally got him where he can’t get out. I will not-“

 

It’s Pulitzer’s turn to cut off the Spider, “Rest assured that I am not asking you to. I’m just here on that pretense so my daughter will maybe stop pestering me about this foolish idea of hers. She’s already got it in her head that she can’t stand to sit at the same dinner table with me because of this. I’m fairly sure she’s been eating at the Hearst house more often mine and it’s improper behavior for an unmarried girl. Her mother would be ashamed with me for allowing this to go on for as long as it has. If I can put an end to this nonsense by coming and pretending to have a chat with you about one of those newsboys she’s taken to, then so be it.”

 

Jack finds himself grinning at the mental image of Katherine standing up against her father. The smile quickly sours; however, when he hears Snyder laugh and comment, “You’ve got a lively one on your hands there. You should marry her off before any suitors figure that out.”

 

Pulitzer hums before responding, “Believe me, I’ve tried presenting suitors and she always rejects them, not that I always disagreed with her decision. Some of those boys were hardly appropriate. I always knew that she was a handful, but it’s never been a problem until she met Kelly and those other newsboys. They’re a bad influence on her and I had been hoping once you locked Kelly up, the problem would go away. He’s the one she’s most fond of after all.” Jack’s heart quickens a bit at Pulitzer’s admission. Did Kath really actually like him?

 

“Well Kelly’s not getting out anytime soon, so you don’t have to worry about him. Maybe I could help with the others? I could send some of my boys out to rough them up, maybe round a few of them up and bring them back here?” Snyder offers. Jack can almost picture the crooked smile likely smeared across the man’s face.

 

“No, no need. It will likely just make everything worse and as she so often likes to remind me, they are my employees and they do make me money. And I’ve lost enough money during their juvenile strike as it is.” There’s a tense moment of silence. “I should warn you though: she has it in her head that she’s going to write an expose about this place.”

 

Snyder is angry again; Jack can hear the telltale sign of paper crumpling on his desk. “I-“

 

“I won’t allow it to happen. You know I’ve got connections with the other papers. They’ve agreed to not publish anything of hers, regardless of how well written it may be. She’s talented; I can’t deny that. Maybe this will finally force her back in to reporting on more _appropriate_ topics.”

 

There’s a long moment of silence from the two men. Jack thinks he can hear the paper being flattened back out and possibly the sound of a book being set on top of it.

 

“You said you finally found a way to keep Kelly from escaping? I must admit; I’m curious how you’ve managed that. I’ve heard the stories of his frequent escapes from this place.” Pulitzer draws out the conversation. Jack momentarily wonders if Katherine is waiting outside, watching her father to make sure he actually came in and held a discussion with the Spider.

 

Snyder laughs, “Oh yes, left him cuffed and locked him in that closet right there. Threatened to have my boys visit his little friend if he acted out. You wouldn’t have even known he was there if I hadn’t told you.” He chuckles again. “Between the cuffs and the number of locked doors he’d have to get through to escape this time, I don’t think he’ll be leaving anytime soon.”

 

Pulitzer hums at that. Jack feels a little sick that Snyder didn’t even give a timeframe for how long he’d be in here this time. “Yes. I would never have guessed. Speaking of his little friend, you got rid of that little crippled friend of Kelly’s on time, correct? I don’t need my daughter coming after me for that too.” Jack’s heart stops. What did they do to Crutchie? Jack had been silent since Snyder had threatened to hurt Crutchie if he spoke out. There was no reason for Snyder to be doing anything to Crutchie.

 

“Yeah, he’s been taken care of. Gone for good. You and your little daughter don’t have to worry about him.” Snyder confirms with a dark chuckle.

 

Jack can’t take it anymore. Screw the consequences, he’s gonna find out what they did to Crutchie. He pushes himself upright as fast as he can, which admittedly is faster than he thought was currently possible, and pounds on the door with his fists while yelling, “What the hell’d you do to Crutchie?!”

 

He’s apparently gotten their attention because just moments later, the door he’d just been pounding on is being thrown open. The light that floods in to the room blinds him, and he’s forced to slam his eyes shut, but he can hear the heavy footsteps of one of the men walking in to his little cell. Suddenly there are two hands on his chest roughly shoving him and he’s stumbling backwards in to the depths of the room. Jack tries to keep his eyes open long enough to get a better understanding of exactly what’s happening, but the sun must be right outside Snyder’s office window or something because it’s just too bright.

 

Before he can fall to the floor, he’s stumbling in to the back wall and there’s a hand wrapped around his throat. The hand is squeezing hard and pressing hard enough that Jack thinks he might become one with the wall. Jack’s hands instinctually rise to the wrist of his assailant, desperately trying to rip the hand away from his throat to relieve the pressure. He even tries digging his nails in to the soft flesh of the man’s wrist. He kicks out where he imagines the man’s legs must be. None of it has any effect and the pressure around his throat remains constant. Jack feels panic begin to creep in as he gasps for air, but all he achieves is sputtering out what air is already in his lungs.

 

“You’d have thought he would have learned to keep his mouth shut by now,” Jack vaguely hears one of the men say.

 

A reply from the other man, “He’s impossible, this one. Should have figured he’d start making trouble as soon as we got rid of the crippled boy. He doesn’t have enough self-preservation to keep quiet for himself.”

 

Jack’s truly out of air now; the grip on his throat is too tight for any air to return to his lungs. Jack can feel his struggling weaken and lessen as each moment passes. He forces his eyes open, only to find blurriness and black splotches, like paint, splattered across his vision. What feels like minutes later, though it was likely only seconds later, he passes out. It must have been instantaneous, but he recognizes it in slow motion. His arms slide down from clawing at the wrist whose hand is still wrapped around his throat. Then everything goes black, either from his eyes closing or from passing out, he’s not sure. His knees give out next, leaving only the hand around his throat holding him upright. Lastly, his brain goes from running full speed to crashing in to a wall, silent.

 

-Some time later-

 

Coming back to consciousness is slower this time. He vaguely recognizes that he’s lying on his back, which is a blessing considering how much his ribs would be protesting if he’d been on his stomach. Every limb feels heavy and his breaths come even slower and shallower than they had been before. Air slides through his damaged throat down to his lungs, the coolness of it mildly soothing on his burning throat.

 

It’s hard to breathe; it’s like a constant battle between trying to force enough air through his constricted throat and not breathing hard enough to jolt his ribs. There’s a hot, pulsating feeling around his throat and Jack can almost still feel the hand wrapped around it – no, he doesn’t want to imagine that right now. There will undoubtedly be bruising, not that it will stand out much considering he’s fairly sure the rest of him is already covered in bruises of various colors. If anything, his neck probably stuck out more when it wasn’t bruised.

 

Finally getting his breathing balanced, he forces his eyes open. Even though whatever room he’s in is enveloped in darkness, it still feels like his vision is blurry and his eyes can’t focus on anything. Jack feels an involuntary tear of frustration slide down his cheek. People have tried to strangle him before, it was sort of a side effect of picking fights with people like the Delancey brothers, but he’d always been able to fight them off. He’d never actually let it get this far before.

 

Since he’s in the dark, he must either be in his cell or in the basement again. Considering that the air is still stale like his cell, but that the temperature is noticeably cooler than there; he concludes he must be in the basement. Jack wonders whether Snyder’s goons had soaked him while he was out, or if they were waiting until he woke up to come and visit him. He was already in the basement after all and at this point pretty much in constant pain, so it's not like he would notice any new pains gained from a fresh beating.

 

Jack’s thoughts turn to Crutchie. What had Snyder, and Pulitzer apparently, done to his friend? Surely, they didn’t mean gone as in dead gone, right? He was well aware of the fact that people died in this building, but normally they were people like Jack, who provoked Snyder and his goons every chance they got. Crutchie wasn’t like that. He just wasn’t. He was the innocent kid who let himself blend in and followed every rule as if his life depended on it; and in the Refuge it kind of does.

 

There is a scuffling sound emanating from somewhere around the edges of the room. Jack brushes it off as the Refuge’s resident mice scurrying about. After listening to it for a couple more minutes; again, time is impossible in the basement, Jack’s fairly sure the sound is not coming from mice. The scuttling is too heavy and is accompanied by a rustling sound that almost sounds like…clothes?

 

He opens his mouth and tries to call out, see if it’s another kid and find out if they’ve seen Crutchie, but his throat constricts and all that comes out is air. The pain radiating from his throat makes him want to curl up on himself, but what’s worse than that is the sudden need to cough or vomit, he’s not quite sure which but both sound equally painful at the moment.  He tries to stifle whichever one it is.

 

He eventually has to cough and he can’t decide whether the feeling that his throat is being ripped apart or the jolting of his ribs is worse. It takes him far too long to recover and get his breathing back to its new normal. He internally curses at himself. He knew it was bad, considering he passed out and everything, but he didn’t know it was _that_ bad.

 

Another couple of tears make trails down his cheeks and he doesn’t bother to try and stop crying this time. Why does it matter? It’s dark, no one can see him, and he’s in pain. If this helps at all, so be it.

 

Another chunk of time passes. It’s deathly silent this time: no scuttling sounds emanating from the edges of the room. Jack ponders if he could have been imagining the noises all along. Was that possible? Was he _that_ messed up that he was imagining things?

 

Jack cringes and tries to blink the remaining tears out of his eyes when he hears the door to the basement open and two distinct sets of footsteps make their way down the creaky wooden stairs. They come to a stop somewhere near his head and he forces his eyes open a little to see they’ve brought their candle with them again. It’s still a little blurry, but he can definitely make out the shape of a candle and the silhouettes of Snyder’s two goons.

 

“Aww, look, he’s been crying.” The taller one taunts. Jack wishes he could deny it.

 

“Did mister tough-guy finally break?” The other adds. Jack rolls his eyes, which apparently earns him a rough kick to the shoulder. “Ain’t you gonna get up and fight back Kelly?” He wants to, if only so he can try and take a swing at their smug faces, but he just doesn’t have the energy to right now.

 

“He’s not even talking back today. Maybe old Snyder finally did manage to teach him how to shut up!” The taller one replies and the pair laugh.

 

As if the day hadn’t gone badly enough already, the shorter one leans down and grabs Jack by his right wrist to pull him up and Jack can instantly tell that the direction he pulls is all wrong. His wrist and hand suddenly feel like they’re on fire. He involuntarily tries to scream and it goes just about as well as trying to talk went, possibly worse. The goon drops his wrist and Jack curls in on himself, ignoring the protests of his ribs, cradling the wrist to his chest. The tears come back in full force and he doesn’t even try to stop them.

 

The pain escalates and his breaths start coming quicker and shorter than they had before; it’s ultimately more than his ribs and constricted throat can handle. Jack doesn’t even try to fight the darkness as it swallows him again and relieves him from his pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for patiently waiting. 
> 
> I've created a separate tumblr blog where I'll try and post updates, answer questions, maybe take prompts, etc:  
> https://writing-instead-of-sleeping.tumblr.com
> 
> As always questions/comments/suggestions appreciated!


	10. Katherine

**Katherine**

 

Katherine paces the kitchen of her new apartment anxiously. It’s been an entire week since Crutchie was released from the Refuge – though it could be more aptly described as thrown out - and no progress has been made. Well, of course progress was being made, just nothing of true meaning as far as she was concerned.

 

Getting the information for her article hadn’t been too terribly hard, but it had definitely been emotionally draining for all involved. The boys over at the boarding house who had experience with the Refuge had been very helpful, but with every word that came out of their mouths, she got more and more anxious about that place. The boys had definitely given her looks that signaled they weren’t even telling her the worst parts about their time there. Race had been the worst culprit and has been dodging her ever since they’d talked. In the end, she’d taken everything and written what she considered a thoughtful, but darning expose of the Refuge only to have it denied by every paper in town. Bill and Darcy had read it over as well and had agreed it was a good piece, but they had yet to think of any solutions to getting it printed.

 

The whole situation frustrated her to no end. This was no doubt the effect of her father meddling in her life and career again. He’d even admitted to her face that he thought she was a talented writer, but he was still denying her the opportunity to show it off. Katherine had confronted him about his hypocrisy shortly after trying to guilt him in to printing the article himself. That particular fight had been their third in just the last week and the cause of her seeking her own apartment. Finding one hadn’t taken too long, considering the second she dropped the name ‘Pulitzer’, people were generally more willing to help her. At least her father’s name was good for something.

 

She’d ended up choosing an already sparsely furnished apartment just blocks from the Refuge, which she could see if she went out and sat on the fire escape or snuck up to the roof. The place was small compared to what she’d grown up with and what she’d imagined for her first place outside of her family’s house would be, but it was more than she needed. There was a quaint living room and kitchen, a modern washroom, and two bedrooms. Her mother would have protested about the part of town the building was in, but then again, she would have also protested about Katherine becoming a reporter. Katherine muses that maybe she should stop holding so much value in her deceased mother’s thoughts. At the end of the day, she is happy with it and that was really all that mattered.

 

Katherine turns to walk back down the hallway from the kitchen, where she’s been slowly sipping at a mug of tea. The weather had finally started turning cold enough to make the drink not entirely unbearable. Glancing out the window, she notices the black clouds looming on the horizon and infers that the first big rain of the season is probably coming sooner than later as well. Figuring she’d need her winter clothes soon, Katherine opens her winter clothes trunk she’d just shoved under her bed when everything had been delivered. She’d hadn’t planned on needing any of that clothing anytime soon and it was going to need to air out a little bit before she could wear it out.

 

Her progress comes to a halt; however, when the first thing she sees upon opening the trunk is Jack’s newsie cap. Of course, she hadn’t forgotten it was in there, but she’s still caught off guard by it. Katherine slowly reaches to pick it up and lets the trunk lid slam down so that she can sit on it. She slowly rotates the hat in her hands, wishing for the entire world that it’s owner was here instead. Just as she did those couple of weeks ago in the cellar, she hugs the hat to her chest, but this time allows a few tears to fall before brushing them away.

 

It’s killing her not knowing. Some of the boys had run by the Refuge a couple of nights ago to snoop around and see if they could discern any information about Jack, but they had returned empty handed. Apparently none of the kids there had seen or heard of him being there – at least not recently. When she had finally pestered her father enough, he had gone to speak to Snyder about releasing Jack. He’d returned assuring her that Jack was indeed at the Refuge, but that Snyder was not allowing him an early release despite her father’s attempts to convince him. Katherine doubts her father put much effort in to trying to convince Snyder, considering his personal feeling towards Jack and the newsies in general.

 

So she’s stuck here, at a crossroads, not knowing entirely what to believe. At this point, she’s more inclined to believe the newsies, who have been so helpful in getting her information for her article and know more about Jack and the Refuge than anyone else. But she wants to believe her father; at least the part that Jack is indeed in the Refuge. It’s better than guessing as to where he is, right? Katherine groans. The whole situation is just too confusing. She wants Jack out of the Refuge and to know he is safe, is that too much to ask for? Because right now she doesn’t even have a clear answer on whether he is in the Refuge and the last time she saw him, he was being dragged away to be soaked by the Delanceys.

 

Steady knocking coming from her front door suddenly interrupts her thoughts. Katherine yells out, “One moment!” before standing from her seat on the trunk. She glances out her window to see that the dark cloud has consumed the sky and is releasing heavy rain upon the city. As if it were something much more fragile that a piece of cloth, Katherine carefully sets Jack’s hat on the edge of her bed and quickly makes her way towards the front door.

 

Katherine take a moment to brush the creases out of her skirt before opening the door to find a soaking wet Race and Davey standing on the other side with a small wooden crate. “Come in, come in!” She ushers the boys inside and runs to her linens closet to grab them some towels. It may not be cold enough for the rain to turn to snow yet, but it’s certainly too cold to be dripping wet.

 

Katherine hands over the towels to the boys and returns to her kitchen to make them each a cup of tea. Once the tea is made, she hands them each a cup and leads them in to the living room. Davey carries Race’s mug of tea, while Race still hugs the crate to his chest. Race only relinquishes the crate to set it on the floor between his feet once he’s seated on the couch beside Davey.

 

Unable to tolerate the silence any longer, Katherine begins, “So what has you running all the way over here boys?” She’s well aware neither of them typically sell in this part of town: Race typically sells over by the horse tracks and Davey’s been covering Jack’s spots over near the Bowery.

 

Race holds his mug on his lap and rubs his still damp hair with his other hand. “Wells, I saw the cloud comin’ and figured it was probably gonna rain so I should get Jack’s stuff off the roof so it don’t get soaked.” He gazes down at the crate between his feet. “I kinda forgot how much Jack draws. He don’t ‘xactly like sharin’ them with nobody. He keeps it all up in his penthouse and I didn’t wants it to get ruined.”

 

Davey reaches in to the box and pulls out a tube, which he turns over in his hands a couple of times. “He drew _everything_ Kath. There’s loads of drawings of the Refuge in here. I know you’re having trouble getting your article printed and I was thinking that maybe if you had a drawing to go with it then maybe you’d have better luck.” He hands over the roll to Katherine with an excited smile.

 

Katherine gingerly takes the roll and uncaps the end of it to find loads of rolled papers on the inside. She gently pulls them from the tube and lays the stack of papers flat out on the coffee table, or as flat as she can with how the paper has warped to the curve of the tube. Carefully leafing through the top couple of drawings – which are all just as amazing, if not more so, than the sketch Jack drew of her at the theatre, Katherine pulls aside the ones whose subjects she can’t place. There are plenty of sketches of animals, the skyline, the other newsies, all with finely crafted lines and more suitable for display than being rolled up in a tube. The others, which Katherine assumes must be depictions of the Refuge, are just as clear but made much more poignant by the rougher lines and crumpling of the papers. It looks like Jack drew these particular pictures almost in a rush; just to get the images out of his head, then considered crumpling them up and trashing them before ultimately stuffing them in the tube alongside his other drawings. Katherine allows a small smile to creep on to her face at the thought.

 

When Katherine looks back up to the boys seated across from her, she sees Davey looking down at the pictures with something resembling curiosity, while Race looks on almost in disgust.

 

“Wow…” Davey lets out finally. “I knew from his paintings at Medda’s he was good, but these are something else.” He reaches out and pulls the top drawing off the larger – not Refuge pictures – pile to examine it closer.

 

Race on the other hand, seems to have zeroed in on the top picture of the Refuge pile, which is a sad depiction of some sparse bunk beds filled with as many boys as they can fit. There are also some rats circling the floor, with one big one in particular standing on its hind legs attempting to nip at the nearest boy’s dangling foot. “Yeahs, he’s got it perfect.” Race gruffly lets out, a sharp contrast to Davey’s near-exuberance.

 

Taking this as her chance to ask Race about the content of some of Jack’s Refuge drawings, Katherine tentatively asks, “Is that really what the boarding rooms look like in there?” She wants him to answer no, that this was an artistic exaggeration by Jack, but it doesn’t seem like she’s going to get that.

 

Race humorlessly laughs, “On a good day.”

 

Davey’s finally turned his attention away from the drawing in his hand to the same one Race and Katherine are looking over. “That one would go well with your article Kath.” He pauses for moment. “It stark and shocking. It’ll definitely gets people’s attention and make them feel something.”

 

Katherine hums. “Yeah, I was thinking that too.” She leafs through the next couple of Jack’s drawings in the pile designated for Refuge related pictures. There’s one of two older boys beating up a younger one that is even more striking, but doesn’t as directly connect to her article. She pulls another one to the top of the stack. It’s hard to make out what exactly the picture is of, considering the whole page is nearly shaded over with pencil, but Katherine thinks she can make out a staircase somewhere in the background.

 

“That’d be the basement.” Race spits out. He’s not looking at the picture anymore, having instead chosen to stare at the remains of his tea.

 

“How do you know? I can’t make out anything much besides maybe a staircase?” Katherine prompts.

 

Race huffs. “That’s all that’s there really.” He takes another sip of his tea, clearly trying to avoid talking more about this particular drawing.

 

Katherine takes the hint and places the picture back at the bottom of the stack. She’s dying to know why that particular drawing has Race so spooked, well maybe she isn’t considering what the newsies have told her about the Refuge, but she lets it go.

 

She and Race go through the rest of the stack of Refuge drawings and he gives her a brief description of each, some descriptions more brief than others as the topic seems to wear on him. Davey also frequently interjects with comments about how each picture would present with her article, although Katherine is fairly sure she is going to go with the first picture she saw: the one with the overcrowded bunk beds and rats.

 

Once the stack of Refuge drawings has been gone completely through, Katherine watches Race very deliberately look out the window to notice the rain has stopped before announcing, “I’s gonna go,” and walking out of her apartment quicker than she thought possible.

 

Still a little stunned by Race’s abrupt exit, Katherine completely misses whatever Davey is saying. “Sorry, I didn’t hear.”

 

“Oh, I was just saying please don’t take offense. Race has made it very clear to me that the Refuge is the one subject he has no interest in talking about.” Davey rubs his neck, signaling his discomfort, “I’m fairly sure he’s only talking to you about any of this because he wants Jack out.”

 

“I’d never hold it against him!” Katherine exclaims perhaps a little too loudly. “I kind of got that idea after he talked with me for my article. From what Crutchie has told me, it also sounds like the whole boarding house is in a bit of disarray without Jack there and Race is running himself ragged trying to keep everything in order.”

 

The pair sits in silence for a moment before Davey smiles hopefully again and asks, “So do you think these will help you get your article printed?”

 

“I…I don’t know honestly. I’m sure my father is behind the scenes ordering everyone not to print anything I write. I’m not sure if having an accompanying drawing is going to change much, even if it is this amazing.” Katherine rubs her face, trying to conceal some of her frustration.

 

“Maybe you’re missing a step,” Davey interjects. Katherine, thoroughly perplexed, just looks at Davey hopelessly. “There’s a whole stack of drawings here that might not go perfectly with your article, but still make a pretty big statement about the Refuge.”

 

“I don’t understand where you’re going with this Davey.”

 

“Miss Medda’s been having dinner every Wednesday with the Governor, right?” Davey is absolutely beaming now. “What if you gave the rest of these drawings to Medda to give to him along with a letter or something –“  


“And maybe he would do something about the Refuge!” Katherine interjects and finishes, finally understanding where Davey’s train of thought was heading.

 

“Exactly! I can’t imagine him being happy with how the place is being run, considering it’s the state that is funding it and he actually has the power to do something about it.” Davey finishes.

 

“And…and then if does something about it I can hopefully get my article published as an exclusive before any other reporter has any time to do the in depth research.” Katherine’s smile now matches Davey’s. “This is amazing Davey, thank you!”

 

Davey is hopping up and Katherine is tempted to laugh about how juvenilely he’s displaying his excitement. “Well come on, let’s go! If we leave right now, we should be able to get Jack’s drawings to Medda before her dinner with the governor tonight!” He’s carefully grabbing the tube from Katherine and rolling in the Refuge stack of drawings – sans the bunk bed one Katherine wants to use with her article.

 

Katherine jumps up to quickly grab the bunk bed drawing and her article from where is lies besides her typewriter on her desk. If they’re lucky, then they’ll meet Medda in time for her to pass along the tube of Jack’s drawings to the governor and then she’ll be able to drop off her article at The Sun _just in case_ they want to print it. Katherine lets her hopes soar that just maybe things might be starting to look up.

 

-Later that evening-

 

Katherine is dropped off at her apartment by Davey, who had insisted, ‘It’s too dark for you to walking about by yourself. Let me walk you home.’ She’d scoffed and argued that it was unnecessary; she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, thank you very much, but hadn’t had much choice when Davey just kept walking with her anyways. It wasn’t like she could force him to not follow her, and anyways, he’d been a huge help today.

 

They’d turned the corner to Medda’s theatre just in time to see her climbing in to a waiting carriage. Davey had called out for her to wait and they’d raced the rest of the way to explain the plan to a more than willing to help Medda. She’d taken the tube of Jack’s Refuge drawings and exclaimed that she’d ‘ _make sure_ the governor would do something about that dreadful place’. From there, Katherine and Davey had run by The Sun to drop off her article and Jack’s drawing with her former editor with the heavy implication that he’d likely have a need to print them soon.

 

Unlocking the door and walking inside her dark apartment, Katherine makes a beeline for the crate that Race had left by her couch. On the way to Medda’s, Davey had explained that it held all of Jack’s belongings that Race had pulled off the roof. Race had wanted her to hold on to it. According to Davey, Race had tried to make up some sorry explanation as to why, but he’s pretty sure Race just can’t stand to have it around. It’s just a constant reminder of Jack, and by extension, the Refuge.

 

Looking through the crate, Katherine doesn’t find much. There are two spare undershirts, a spare button down, and a spare set of pants. All the clothing has little specs of paint dotting it, like it was clothing Jack set aside to exclusively use when painting. Katherine smiles when she thinks she recognizes some of the colors from the most recent backdrop Jack painted for Medda smeared across the sleeve of the grey button down shift. Beneath the clothing, there’s also a neatly folded worn knit blanket and a bundle of blunt pencils and stained paintbrushes tied together with a piece of string.

 

Feeling a bit like she’s violated some of Jack’s privacy by going through his things, Katherine moves the box in to her guest bedroom and sets it on the trunk at the end of the bed. Remembering the stack of drawings without Refuge relation still laying on her living room table, she returns to the living room to grab those and carefully lay them in one of the guest room dresser’s drawers. She figures it’s as safe a place as any in her home, considering the guest room has yet to actually have a guest occupy it.

 

Katherine carefully shuts the guest room door and wanders the rest of the way down to the hall towards her room. She nearly stubs her toe on her winter clothes trunk, which she’d failed to properly unpack earlier and had left sitting right inside the doorway. Sighing, she delays the task of unpacking it until tomorrow. It’s late, she’s tired, and the hope that the Governor will do something about the Refuge can only keep her running for so long. She changes in to her nightgown and pulls back the covers of her bed only to almost pull them over where she’d set Jack’s newsie cap that morning. Katherine carefully picks up the cap and walks it over to the guest room, where she places it in the drawer with Jack’s drawings. It makes more sense than replacing it in the trunk with her winter clothes, where it will just distract her again when she actually unpacks it tomorrow. Katherine falls asleep relatively hopeful that the day’s planning will bring about some change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I had a serious case of writer's block. (You can always come bug me on tumblr if you want: https://writing-instead-of-sleeping.tumblr.com )
> 
> As always, comments/questions/suggestions are always appreciated!


	11. Crutchie

**Crutchie**

It’s starting to feel like Jack is slowly fading out of Crutchie’s life. It’s been a whopping eleven days since he was released from the Refuge and there is still no sign of Jack. Specs had taken a couple of other boys over to the Refuge a few days after Crutchie had returned to the boarding house. They had been unable to find Jack or get any of the other kids trapped there to confirm his presence. He could have told them as much, but he understood their need to try and get information themselves.

 

The first couple of days back had been frustrating, to say the least. Race and Specs had insisted he stay back at the boarding house and rest. And he did – at least the first day, when he was more tired than he would ever admit and slept the day away on his bunk. For the next couple of mornings after that, he had tried to leave with the rest of the newsies in the morning, only to have his plans thwarted by Race, who had refused to leave until Crutchie returned to the confines of the building. He would eventually end up spending the day in Jack’s penthouse, enjoying the open space and fresh air he hadn’t realized he had missed.

 

The evening of the fourth day after his release, Katherine had come over to the boarding house and talked with as many of the newsboys about the Refuge as she could for her big article. She had talked with Crutchie last, after Race had cut off her interview with him by sprinting out of the building. Crutchie hadn’t had much to add to her pages of notes, considering how short and relatively calm his time at the Refuge was. He had mainly tried to comfort her that Race wasn’t running away from her specifically, but from talking and thinking about the Refuge.

 

Today, he woke before a majority of the rest of the newsies, but the light seeping in through the windows told him it wouldn’t be long until they would be getting up as well. Deciding to get a head start on his day, Crutchie pulls on his button down shirt with a shiver and deftly buttons it. It was almost getting cool enough at nights for him to sleep in it. He then throws on his waistcoat and pulls his crutch out from under the bunk where he stores it during the night so that no one would accidentally trip on it in the dark.

 

He quickly makes his way to the window by the fire escape and pulls it open as quietly as he can. He hops out to sit on the ledge and rest for a moment before pulling himself all the way upright and making his way up to Jack’s penthouse. He wasn’t expecting to see Jack up there, but his heart still falls a little when he finds the roof devoid of his friend’s presence. In fact, Jack’s penthouse is barren except for the raggedly bedroll, which has been shoved in the corner. He hasn’t grown used to seeing the roof so empty, even though it’s been like this for a couple days now. Race, who had taken to selling in Manhattan with Crutchie in Jack’s absence, had run back to the boarding house in the middle of the day when a dark rain cloud had started crawling its way across the horizon. That evening, Race had explained to him how he’d boxed up all of Jack’s stuff and taken it to Katherine’s for safekeeping. Apparently, Davey and Katherine had thought Jack’s Refuge drawings could help her get her piece about the Refuge printed.

 

Crutchie feels a little annoyed on Jack’s behalf that Race was running around showing off Jack’s drawings. Jack tried his best to hide them from the other newsies, stuffing them in that darn tube and never ever taking them out again. If Crutchie ever wanted to see Jack’s art, he had to be there when he was drawing it. It was amazing, and he admired how quickly his brother could make simple lines in to something much more complex and beautiful.

 

Jack’s drawings relating to the Refuge were a whole different matter of course. Crutchie would normally find them crumpled up under Jack’s bunk or in the corner of the roof and would straighten them out before slipping them in to the tube with Jack’s other drawings. He’s not even sure if Jack knows they’ve been saved and now Race has run them off to Katherine to possibly print with her article. He refuses to hold it against Race though. He’s just doing whatever he thinks will get Jack out the quickest. Crutchie doesn’t know much, or anything really, about when Jack and Race were in the Refuge together, just that it happened before he was around and that it still haunts Race.

 

Crutchie takes one last look around the empty rooftop before making slow progress back down the fire escape. Upon reaching the bottom he finds Race sitting on the ledge by the window, looking exhausted and a bit distracted. Crutchie slowly lowers himself to sit besides his friend.

 

“He not up there?” Race asks as he fiddles with his cigar.

 

Crutchie frowns before confirming, “No.” He didn’t know anyone had noticed him checking Jack’s penthouse every morning.

 

They sit there in relative silence for a couple of minutes, listening back through the window to hear the other newsies start to rise. Race has gone abnormally still and when Crutchie looks over to him, his eyes are closed. As much as Race needs this moment of rest, the fire escape was definitely not a safe place to fall asleep, so Crutchie carefully puts his hand on Race’s shoulder and says, “Race, wake up.”

 

Race slowly opens his eyes and Crutchie removes his hand from Race’s shoulder before he can shrug it off. “Wasn’ sleepin’,” Race pouts, his words slurring together a little bit.

 

“Sure,” Crutchie sarcastically replies. “Look, Race. I knows you’s trying to take over for Jack and everything while he’s gone, but you’s gotta take care of yourself too.” Race is giving him a tired glare now. “Go sleep. We can manage for one day without ya.”

 

Race dismissively waves off the suggestion. “I’s fine.”

 

“Jack wouldn’t want ya-“ Crutchie begins, but he’s cut off.

 

“Jack wouldn’t take a day off cause he’s tired. And he’d want everything ta go on as normal and I’s gonna make sure everything’s runnin’ as normal when he gets back. You’s not his only friend Crutchie,” Race retorts.

 

Taken aback a bit by Race’s uncharacteristic bluntness, Crutchie responds, “I know you’re his friend too Race. But you’ve got to make sure _you’re_ still here when he gets back. You’s running yourself in to the ground. Everyone is here to help; you don’t have ta do this alone.” He pauses when Race lets out a snort. Feeling a bit exasperated, he continues, “Why’s you so determined to do this by yourself, huh?”

 

Race’s face falls and Crutchie wishes he could take the question back and is honestly a bit surprised when he actually get an answer. “Cause he took care of me when we weres _there_.” Race shivers, but Crutchie doesn’t think it’s from the cold. “So I’s gonna take care of what’s important ta him while he - ‘til he gets back.” Race effectively ends the conversation by rising from the ledge and slipping back in through the window in to the boarding house, where the rest of the newsies are all awake and getting prepared to head out for the day.

 

The walk towards the distribution gate has gotten easier with every day Crutchie is back out selling papes. He’s not quite back to one hundred percent yet, but he can almost keep pace with everyone else now. That small achievement brings a slight smile to his face. He drops it almost immediately though because now really doesn’t feel like a time for smiling, especially after his discussion with Race this morning.  

 

Crutchie takes a stand next to Davey and Race as they wait for the day’s headline to go up and the gates to open. He stays there leaning on his crutch in silence, but listens as Davey admonishes Race for not taking care of himself. Good. Maybe Race will listen to Davey. He’s arguably a much more convincing authoritative figure than Crutchie.

 

Davey’s lecture is interrupted by Les shouting, “Look! Look at the headline!” Crutchie muses it must be something good for little Les to be so excited by it. When the crowd of gathered newsies starts cheering though, Crutchie knows it must be a really good headline.

 

Looking up to see the headline for himself, Crutchie feels like cheering as well. Emblazoned across the chalkboard are the words: ‘Children’s Jail ‘The Refuge’ Set to Close’. Davey’s hands are suddenly on his shoulders, shaking him with excitement.

 

“Kath did it! She did it!” Davey’s exclaiming as the distribution gates open. The crowd of newsies, led by Davey and Race, rush in to get their papers and read the story for themselves. Crutchie doesn’t follow the crowd in, figuring he’ll wait to read the article with Davey and find out if there’s planning to be done.

 

He doesn’t have to wait long, as Davey runs back out towards him, paper held out in front of him. “So what’s it say?” Crutchie asks excitedly, a small grin rising on his face.

 

Davey reads, “The notorious children’s jail, ‘The Refuge’, is set to close tomorrow after details revealing apparent abuse and misappropriation of funds were brought to the attention of the governor’s office. Governor Roosevelt himself pushed the immediate closure order through late Tuesday evening. According to the text of the order, all children currently being held in the facility are to be released by no later than noon on Thursday.”

 

Crutchie takes a moment to process the information. “Tomorrow. Theys closing that place for good tomorrow.” He confirms, not quite sure he believes this is really happening.

 

“Yes! We’ve got to go get a copy of The Sun to see if they printed Kath’s article and Jack’s drawing! Then we should make sure Kath’s heard the news. After that we’ll need to plan-“ Davey continues, having processed the news much faster than Crutchie had.

 

Crutchie jumps a little when from behind him he hears, “What’s we got ta plan?” Glancing over his shoulder, Crutchie sees the voice belongs to Race, who’s already looking a little better than he was this morning.

 

Davey looks at the pair of them incredulously for a moment. “They’re releasing all the kids in the Refuge tomorrow - all of them. Not all of them have families to go back to.”

 

What Davey’s getting at finally dawns on Crutchie, “Yous want the newsies ta take in the ones with nowheres to go.” Crutchie’s mind drifts to Mouse and he wonders if he has a family waiting for him.

 

Davey’s nervously rbbing his hand across the back of his neck again. “Well it doesn’t have to be just Manhattan. If all the boroughs took some of the kids in, then it shouldn’t be too much.” There’s an awkward pause. “I mean, we can’t just abandon them.”

 

“I can go get Spot and we cans meet up at the boarding house in a couple hours,” Race suggests, a smile slowly creeping on to his face. “We can’t do this alone and if you wants the other boroughs to help out you’s gonna need Spot ta tell them to,” He tacks on.

 

Davey’s smile widens at Race’s suggestion, “That’s great Race. Would you? Please? Crutchie and I can go get Kath and we’ll head straight back to the boarding house.” Race smiles larger than Crutchie has seen him smile in a long time before giving Davey a mock salute and sprinting off in Brooklyn’s direction.

 

Not even two hours later, Crutchie, Davey, Katherine, Race, and Spot are seated in the boarding house’s small sitting room. Crutchie’s looking over the copy of The Sun that he and Davey had bought on their way to Kath’s new apartment. Right on the front page, above the fold is Katherine’s article with Jack’s drawing. Crutchie remembers when he found that particular one. It had been a particularly windy day and if he hadn’t snatched it up when he had, the drawing would have flown off the roof. At the time, he hadn’t immediately pegged it as one of Jack’s Refuge drawings, considering how the boarding house also had bunk beds and they oftentimes shared bunks if necessary. Now, after spending time in a room much like Jack had drawn, he can immediately recognize the drawing’s subject.

 

“So why ‘m I here now?” Spot interrupts the silence. Crutchie wordlessly hands out the paper he’s holding. Spot glares at it before continuing, “I’s seen it. Duh. I sells papes too ya know.” Crutchie blushes and wordlessly pulls back the paper.

 

Davey clears his throat and states, “Well, um, there’s going to be a lot of kids released tomorrow with nowhere to go and I was thinking that the each of the newsie boroughs could take some of them in.” It ultimately comes out sounding more like a question than a statement, but Crutchie understands his sentiment.

 

Spot huffs and crosses his arms, looking a bit pensive. Race hopefully adds in, “We always take in new kids, just this time it’d be lots at once.”

 

“Yeahs, I knows. We’ve all been taken in by the newsies at one point or another. I mean, we’s here havin’ this discussion aren’t we’s?” He pauses for a moment and the group sits in silence, waiting to hear the King of Brooklyn’s verdict. “Fine. I’ll send some of my guys out to the other boroughs and tells them to send over a couple of guys each tomorrow morning.”

 

Crutchie watches as Davey takes a huge sigh of relief and replies, “Thanks. It’s probably going to be crazy there tomorrow.”

 

“I also plan on takin’ my chance to tell off Jack for being so stupid. If he’s really there anyways,” Spot grumbles out.

 

A bit of anger bubbles up in Crutchie, “What do you means if he’s really there?”

 

Spot turns to glare at him. “You have considered he might not actually be in there, right? I means, he disappeared right after you got taken and you didn’t see him the wholes time you was in there. Then Race tells me Specs went and scouted the place for any sign of him and they couldn’t find any. Right?”

 

Yes, Crutchie had considered that Jack might not be in the Refuge, but where else could he be? He can’t imagine any other place that could keep Jack from them for so long. The boarding house might not really be a home, but the newsies were certainly family. He’s about to say as much when Katherine speaks up.

 

“Of course we’ve considered it, but my father-“ Katherine begins.

 

“Is the one who made Jack disappear in the first place. Do you really think anything he says can be trusted?” Spot counters, turning his glare to Katherine.

 

“Of course not, but if Jack’s not at the Refuge where else could he possibly be?” Katherine asks, the pitch of her voice rising and wavering slightly. Her eyes are glimmering and Crutchie thinks she’s probably close to crying. He doesn’t understand how she and Jack got so close so quickly, but Katherine’s affection for Jack certainly hasn’t waned in his absence.  That makes him happy.

 

Her question goes unanswered and the group sits in silence once again. It’s Spot who breaks the silence with, “So how’s early should we be there tomorrow?”

 

“The paper said that all the kids had to be released by noon tomorrow and I doubt Snyder will release them a moment earlier than he has to, so maybe ten or eleven?” Davey suggests.

 

Spot rises from where he’s seated and rubs his hands together. “Tomorrow at ten then, just to be’s safe. I’ll send the word out to the other boroughs. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got Brooklyn ta run.” With that he dismisses the group and walks out of the Manhattan boarding house.

 

“Uh, I’s gonna go talk with ‘im some more,” Race stutters out before racing out the door to chase after Spot.

 

The remaining trio sit there in silence for a few more minutes. Crutchie can’t stand any more of the silence and takes the chance to vocalize the thought that’s been swirling in his head for the second half of their little meeting, “So…so what if Jack’s no there?”

 

Katherine and Davey don’t seem shocked by the question. Crutchie takes it as a clue that they’d been wondering the same thing.

 

“He has to be there. I mean, I don’t want him to be there of course, but where else could my father have sent him off to?” Katherine ponders aloud.

 

“We just have to hope he’s there and that he’s okay and that we’ll have him by our side again by tomorrow afternoon. Think positively,” Davey states with a small unconvincing smile.

 

Katherine weakly chuckles at Davey’s attempt, “Yeah, hopefully. If-if he’s not there then we’ll just have to figure out our next step then. Hopefully we won’t have to though.” More silence. “Davey, you’re not bringing Les tomorrow, are you? I know how much he looks up to Jack –“

 

Davey cuts her off, “No way; absolutely not. I’m going to make him stay at home if I can. I’ll explain what’s going on to our mom and hopefully she can keep him there. He’s going to be devastated if Jack’s not back with us tomorrow and I’m not going to be able to deal with that with everything else that’s going to be happening.” Davey solemnly looks at his clasped hands folded over his lap. “Speaking of Les, I better go and retrieve him from Jojo before they make up their own plans for tomorrow.” He chuckles at the thought and Crutchie and Katherine giggle a little as well.

 

Once Davey’s left, Katherine softly speaks, “You don’t think Jack will be mad about his drawing getting printed, do you? It was just so perfect and it’s what got the article printed. And his other drawings of the Refuge were what convinced the governor to close it in the first place.” She’s mindlessly pulling at a crease in her skirt, the question obviously wearing on her.

 

Crutchie honestly doesn’t know how to answer, but finally gives, “Jack’s real protective of his drawings, but I think this time he won’t mind. He’s wanted to get that place closed for a long time and you finally made it happen.”

 

Katherine leans over and wraps him a soft hug, “Thank you Crutchie; I hope so.” She releases him from her embrace and begins to rise from her spot on the couch.

 

Before she can leave, Crutchie grabs her hand and says one last thing. “Wait. If – when we get Jack back tomorrow…” He trails off, not quite sure how to put his concerns in to words, “Jack’s not always the same when he comes back from the Refuge. He tries to pretend he’s fine, but he’s not. Not really.” Katherine stares at him as he finds the words to finish off, “Just don’t let him push you away. Please. You means a lot to him, even if he can’t admit it.”

 

Katherine crouches down to give him one last hug and whisper, “Of course not. I’m not going to be easy for him to get rid of. Thank you Crutchie, he’s lucky to have you looking out for him. “ With that, she releases him once again and walks out of the boarding house.

 

Crutchie wishes that he could just skip the evening and morning coming up and hop straight to tomorrow.   He’s not exactly looking forward to going back to the Refuge, but the anticipation is going to keep him up all night, he’s sure. He just needs to know Jack’s okay and maybe be reunited with Mouse, who he hopes is okay as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, comments/suggestions/questions are appreciated and loved!
> 
> If you want to bug me/talk with me/ or suggest a fic, you can find me at my tumblr: https://writing-instead-of-sleeping.tumblr.com
> 
> The next chapter is already partially written, so you should expect it Thursday/Friday sometime.


	12. Davey

**Davey**

 

In Davey’s opinion, the crowd gathered outside of the Refuge is depressingly small considering how the news of the place’s closing was on the front page of every newspaper in town yesterday. There’s maybe twenty newsies huddled about and a couple of worried looking parents. And by a couple, he means like two sets.

 

It is nearly noon and there has been no sign of movement from the decrepit building. It’s making Davey antsy and anxious. He’s sitting on the curb across the street from the building with Katherine, Crutchie, Race and Spot. Specs and Jojo stand a couple of feet away with the newsies from the other boroughs, ready to gather up the kids with nowhere to go. For the most part, everyone is gathered in uncharacteristic silence. It’s haunting.

 

A clock somewhere starts to chime twelve and with each chime, Davey feels like his heart speeds up. The twelfth chime rings and echoes in the streets around them and the Refuge doors remain shut. He feels like he could be sick. What if Snyder decided he didn’t want to follow the governor’s order? How long would it take for something to be done and get those kids out of that place? He looks around at the group around him, all silent, but the anxiousness is clearly written across all of their faces. What would he tell Les? Geez, it had been hard enough to make him stay home today with the promise he would return home as soon as possible with news about Jack.

 

There is a loud bang in front of him and he throws his head up to cast his view at the Refuge, whose front door is now hanging wide open. It stays hauntingly like that for just a moment before a steady stream of kids start making their way through the door. Davey’s breathe catches in his throat as he takes in the various states of all the kids. Most of them seemed to be walking relatively fine, though there were definitely a couple leaning on each other for support, but a good majority of them were sporting bruises of every shade imaginable. And the newsies could under no circumstances to be considered well fed, but in comparison to some of these kids it looked like the newsies ate like kings.

 

Davey stands from his seated position on the curb to get a better view of the kids streaming out as the crowd between him and the door swells. It appears that Specs has taken charge of organizing the crowd and is directing the kids down the street a bit to the rest of the gathered newsies. Jojo is greeting every kid with his trademark smile, which some of the kids looked downright confused by. Davey wonders when last these kids saw a friendly face.

 

Scrutinizing the last couple of kids trickling through the doors, Davey’s heart sinks when he doesn’t recognize Jack. He looks over towards Crutchie and sees him still standing alone. Crutchie had told him about his friend Mouse and it looks like he has yet to make an appearance yet either. He watches as Specs gives the door one last look before heading over to the crowd down the street. Davey sighs at the apparent sign the Refuge is clear.

 

Suddenly, a splash of pink is barging through his eye line as Katherine makes her way across the street towards the Refuge. Davey runs to catch up to her and grab her arm, “Where are you going?”

 

“In there. Maybe Snyder didn’t unlock all the rooms or something. He’s got to be here.” Katherine’s voice wavers as she reasons with him.

 

“You’s can’t go in there. I-I’s go in and look. I knows where to look,” Race’s voice sounds beside him as he lays a shaky hand on Katherine’s shoulder.

 

Katherine turns to glare at Race. “Don’t you dare try and keep me from going in there Racetrack. I don’t need your protection.”

 

Race removes his hand from her shoulder and holds both of them up in mock defeat. “Aight, I gots it. You’s comin’ in with me.”

 

It’s apparently Spot’s turn to chime in with, “Eh, you’s not going in alone Race. Davey and I’ll go in with ya.” Spot gives Davey a look that threatens him to say otherwise. Davey had been planning on going in anyways, but the looks from the King of Brooklyn just confirmed it.

 

“Hey! Don’t forget me; I’m coming in with yas.” Crutchie pipes up.

 

Race weakly smiles, “Of course not. Can’t forget Crutchie.”

 

“So let’s get going then,” Katherine commands before turning and continuing her path through the Refuge door.

 

The moment Davey walks through the threshold of the Refuge, he has to fight the desire to walk right back out. The place just gives him an awful feeling. It’s dark, the air is stale despite the couple of windows he can see from his position, and the place is eerily clean for having housed so many children. He risks a glance at Race and Crutchie, worried about what this place is making them feel if he, a person who has never been locked in here, is spooked. They both look a little pale, but besides that they somehow seem to be faring better than him, considering he can almost feel the fear etching its way across his face.

 

Spot clear his throat and Davey’s attention returns to him. “How ‘bout Davey, Race, and I check the upstairs and you guys clear down here?”

 

No one objects, so when Spot and Race start heading towards what Davey assumes must be the direction of a staircase, he follows right along. The stairs are narrow and creaky with no railings and just add to Davey’s creepy impression of the building. At the top is a narrow hallway with all of its six doors propped open. Davey follows the pair in front of him in to the first room, which he immediately recognizes from Jack’s drawing that got published along Katherine’s article. There are even the giant rats scampering across the floor. The bars across the windows, which he had been able to see from outside, somehow look more ominous in here, where they cast strange shadows about the room.

 

The trio make quick rounds of the remaining five rooms, which are all mirror images of the first one they cleared. They are about halfway down the staircase when they hear some heavy pounding sounds coming from the first floor. Davey’s heart races as they take the remaining stairs two at a times to race towards the commotion.

 

What they find is Katherine kicking a plain wooden door at the end of the hall. “It’s locked,” is all she offers in explanation. “All the other rooms we’ve checked so far have been open and empty, but this one is locked.” She gives the door another good kick.

 

“That’s the door to tha basement,” Race explains.  

 

“Stand back,” Spot orders and the small group shuffles back away from the door. Davey watches as the other newsie looks over the door for a minute before raising his knee to deliver a directed kick at the door. He’s successful, as the door slowly creaks open to reveal a pitch dark room beyond.

 

Davey looks around the small end of the hallway they are all cramped in to see if he can find a candle. Surely there is one lying around for the staff to use, right? He smiles a little when he finds what he’s searching for on the small table just across the hall from him. The candle is small, but it will have to do. Luckily, there is a packet of matches sitting alongside it, so he doesn’t have to search for those too. He quickly lights the candle and hands it over to Race’s expectant hand.

 

Race fiddles with the candle for a minute. “Crutchie, uh, there’s lot a stairs. And the candle don’t do much for light…” he trails off.

 

“I’ll be fine Race,” Crutchie reassures.

 

With that matter settled, the group makes slow progress down the even more rickety stairs to the basement. The candle casts odd shadows about the empty room and Davey shudders. This place keeps finding new ways to make him uncomfortable. He remains rooted where he stands as Race and Spot slowly circle the perimeter of the apparently empty room. When they circle back around towards the stairs though, they come to a sudden halt.

 

“Um, hi?” Race starts saying to someone Davey can’t see so Davey shifts around to stand beside the younger newsie.

 

Under the staircase sits a very small child with brown hair and green eyes wide with terror. The right side of his face is covered in a bruise and he’s holding out what looks like a rusty nail as if it is some sort of protection. The rust on the nail looks caked on and too dark to truly be rust, but he really doesn’t want to imagine what else it could possibly be right now-or ever, really.

 

“Mouse?” Crutchie’s voice softly asks from behind him. The little boy looks over at Crutchie and visibly relaxes a little, but doesn’t lower his makeshift weapon. “Uh, these guys and Katherine are my friends. The ones I told ya about. We’s here to get you out.” Mouse gives the group one more once-over before dropping his nail and running up to hug Crutchie’s legs, nearly toppling him over.

 

Davey tries not to let his disappointment show as he starts to make his way back up the stairs. No Jack. The only place Race had mentioned Jack might be where Crutchie would have never seen him was the basement and now they knew he wasn’t locked down there. He makes it to the top of the stairs to join Race and Spot, who both look a little dejected as well. Before he can ask if there is anywhere else to look, Race addresses the group, “There’s only one more room I knows of, but I doubt he’s in there.” He looks down at where Mouse is hiding from view behind Crutchie’s legs, “Why don’t ya take ‘im outside. It’ll just be a minute.”

 

“Just Snyder’s office left?” Crutchie sadly questions. Race just nods. Crutchie reaches down to grab Mouse’s hand with his free hand and silently leads him down the hall towards the door. Katherine silently follows and Davey wonders what’s possibly going through her mind. She had been _so_ sure that Jack would be here and Race seemed convinced they wouldn’t find him.

 

Race leads the way down the hall, scuffing his feet a bit, to the door emblazoned with a gold plaque declaring it Snyder’s office. His hand hesitates on the handle for a moment before twisting it and pushing the door open.

 

The room itself is nearly as plush as Pulitzer’s office had been and stands out in stark contrast from the rest of the building’s rooms. Davey scans the room before his eyes land on the door to his left. The _locked_ door to his left. “Race, what’s in that room?” He hesitantly asks.

 

He watches as Race slowly shifts his gaze from the open book on Snyder’s desk towards the room in question. His eyes widen a little. “Just a closet, I thought. I’s never seen a lock on it before though.” He briskly walks over to fiddle with the lock. “You sees a key?”

 

Davey turns back to scan the desk and spots a large brass key in the jar of pencils. He pulls it out and notes it matches the type of lock on the door. His adrenaline starts racing again as he hurriedly passes the key over towards Race, who immediately inserts it in to the lock and twists it until there is a satisfying click signifying the lock’s opening.

 

Race throws open the door to confirm Davey’s mounting suspicion that Jack is locked inside.  Jack doesn’t make any move to indicate he’s noticed the door’s opening and Davey’s initially not even sure that he’s breathing until he stares long enough to see the slow and shallow rise and fall of Jack’s chest.  He overall looks a mess.  He’s leaning up against the sidewall of the small room, his head ducked to his chest and his legs stretched out in front of him.  Davey’s not sure if it is the lighting or actual dirt, but he looks entirely brown and he’s sure it is hiding a lot of Jack’s apparent injuries.  His once-blue shirt is missing a sleeve and is ripped to shreds; his waistcoat, suspenders, and shoes are missing entirely.  

 

Davey’s view is blocked when Race hesitantly starts walking into the small room to kneel by Jack. The younger newsie reaches out, but after watching his own shaky hand hover over Jack’s shoulder for a couple seconds, he retracts it and says,  “Jack?”  There’s no response.  “Jack?”  He repeats after a couple moments without answer or indication that Jack has even heard him.  

 

Davey releases a breathe he didn’t know he was holding when he finally hears Jack whisper back, “Race?”  Jack’s voice sounds airy and strained.

 

Race’s shoulders visibly lose a little of their tension.  “Yeahs.  Davey, Spot, and I here’s to get you out.  Katherine’s waitin’ outside with Crutchie.”

 

Jack slowly lifts his head to lean it against the wall behind him, and releases a shaky breathe.  He says something, but all Davey can make out from where he is frozen is “safe”.

 

“Refuge’s closed Jack.  For good.  We gaves your drawings to Katherine and she got ‘em to the Governor.  He’s closed this place for good.  So now we’ve come to get yous all out.”

 

When he doesn’t get a response from Jack, Race turns to Davey.  He thinks he can see tear tracks on the younger newsie’s face.  “You’s see any key for the cuffs out theres?” he asks, gesturing to Jack’s hands, which lay cuffed across his lap.

 

Davey turns to search the office and finds Spot standing behind him, holding out a singular brass key.  Davey wonders how he had forgotten the Brooklyn leader’s presence.  Davey takes the key and hands it over to Race, who slowly reaches for Jack’s hands to uncuff them.  Davey winces as he watches how the cuffs stick to Jack’s wrists as Race removes them.  Jack doesn’t react.  Race drops the cuffs and key behind him, before saying, “Come on Jack, ‘s time to go.”

 

Davey hesitantly takes a couple steps forward and into the room, carefully stepping over Jack to rest on the opposite side of him as Race.  They both carefully place one of his arms over each of their shoulders before slowly standing, lifting Jack to his feet.  Davey can hear Jack’s breathe hitch at the motion, but he’s more concerned with how light Jack feels.  

 

Once standing, Jack slowly slides his arm off Davey’s shoulders to wrap it around his own midsection while whispering something that sounds like ‘sorry’.  Before Davey can object that Jack certainly has nothing to be sorry for, Race is saying, “Let’s get out of here,” and they start making slow progress out of the Refuge.  Spot takes the lead, followed by Race and Jack, while Davey awkwardly shuffles along behind them, more than a little concerned that Jack might just fall over and take Race with him.  

 

When they finally make it to the front door, Davey can see Katherine, Crutchie, and Mouse sitting on the top step waiting for them.  They all jump up to greet them when they come out and Davey watches their faces fall when they see Jack. The Manhattan leader is trying to stand up a little straighter and smile; already putting on a front to try and hide how he’s really feeling. Outside in the light, Davey can tell Jack really is covered in a layer of dirt and wonders what injuries it is hiding.

 

Jack looks to Crutchie, slowly raising the arm he’s had wrapped around his waist to set it on Crutchie’s head.  “You’s okay,” he whispers out, and it’s unclear whether he is questioning or confirming.  Davey winces out just how _painful_ Jack’s voice sounds.  Crutchie gently smiles, saying, “I’se fine.  Definitely more okay than you’s right now.”  Jack’s hand weakly slides off Crutchie’s head to return to hugging his midsection.

 

Jack turns to look at Katherine, who looks like she’s trying to hold herself back from enveloping Jack in a hug.  “Race told me,” Jack gets out before having to take another shaky breath.  “Thank you.”

 

Katherine’s eyes are starting to glimmer with the beginnings of tears as she says, “Your drawings did all the work. I just got them to the right person so he could do what’s needed to be done for a long time now.”  Everything suddenly gets darker as a large black cloud moves overhead, threatening to pour.   Katherine clears her throat before commanding, “Let’s get away from here.  Follow me.”  She walks down the front steps of the Refuge before waiting for them to follow.

 

Davey watches as Spot whispers something to Race before walking back into the Refuge. He wonders what on Earth the King of Brooklyn could possibly going back inside for, but lets the thought slide as he watches Race and Jack.  The pair is making slow progress down the Refuge’s front steps to join Katherine and Crutchie at the bottom.

 

Katherine’s apartment is only about four blocks from the Refuge, but by the time they reach the building Jack’s head is drooping and he’s leaning even more heavily on Race for support.  Davey also notices that he’s obtained a limp, favoring his left foot, which gets progressively worse the farther they get from the Refuge.

 

Katherine rushes them inside the building and leads them up to the second floor.  Davey stays no more than a couple inches behind Race and Jack as they slowly make their way up the stairs, concerned they might trip.  Katherine stays close to Crutchie’s side, with Mouse sandwiched between them. Once inside the apartment, Katherine declares, “I’m calling a doctor.  Please, sit anywhere.”  No one objects.

 

Before Katherine can go, Davey asks, “Hey Kath, where’s your washroom?  The doctor’s job will be a whole lot easier if he’s not covered in dirt.” He gestures towards Jack, who seems to only be upright because of Race’s hold on him.  

 

Katherine blushes.  “Oh, um.  Down the hall, first door on the right.”  She starts to walk away before turning back and adding, “The box of his stuff Race gave me has some clean clothes in it and is in the guest room; first door on the left.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, comments/suggestions/questions are appreciated and loved!
> 
> If you want to bug me/talk with me/suggest a fic you can find me at my tumblr: https://writing-instead-of-sleeping.tumblr.com


	13. Katherine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: descriptions of injury (also I am not a doctor so please excuse/correct my doctory stuff)
> 
> So as you may have noticed, I've made this a series under the same name so that all the related one shots and related stories can be found in one spot.
> 
> With that, I have posted a one-shot that takes place concurrently with chapter twelve and in the gap between chapter twelve and thirteen called 'Race's Interlude'. It's Race's point of view on this time in the story. It does not need to be read before this chapter, but I definitely recommend reading it (I mean, why wouldn't I?)

**Katherine**

 

When Katherine returns from calling the doctor, glad that none of the boys had argued with her on that, she can hear the shower running.  Crutchie is sitting on her couch with Mouse asleep at his side. She grabs a couple apples off the counter and fills a glass with water before walking over to sit beside them, forcing the glass of water into Crutchie’s hands and setting the apples on the couch besides them.  “Eat.  Drink.”  She orders, her face softening when she sees how crestfallen Crutchie looks.  “What’s wrong?”

 

Crutchie looks down at Mouse as if to check whether or not the kid’s truly asleep before saying, “Jack was there the whole time and I didn’t even know.” Tears start to stream down his cheeks.

 

Katherine moves the apples out of the way before reaching over and hugging Crutchie, rubbing his back like her Mama used to do.  “There wasn’t any way for you to know any different.”

 

The tears start to stream down his face even faster, “I was in Snyder’s office.  Jack was right there.  My best friend was just on the other side of a door, hurting, and I didn’t do anything about it.”

 

Katherine pushes back from Crutchie, holding his upper arms.  She looks him straight in the eyes as she says, “You can _not_ blame yourself for anything that happened to Jack.  You didn’t know he was in there.  And anything you would have done to try and help him would have probably landed you in the same spot. Jack wouldn’t have wanted that.”  

 

Crutchie sniffles, saying, “Jack would have found out.  He would have done something besides sitting around and doin’ nothing every day.”

 

“No.  Jack would have had the same information as you.  And you did not do nothing.”  Crutchie looks up to her.  “You kept Mouse at your side so that he wasn’t alone and afraid. _You_ did that.”  There’s no response from Crutchie.  “And you know what?  Jack’s out.  He’ll be fine.  You’ll be fine.”  She envelops Crutchie in another hug.

 

They are interrupted by a knock at the door.  “Must be the doctor,” Katherine mumbles before releasing Crutchie and answering the front door.  Opening it, she finds Dr. Richardson, an older gentleman with grey hair and kind blue eyes.  

 

“Katherine, so nice to see you.” He says as he hugs her.  “I was a little surprised to get your call.  Are you okay?”  He steps back to give her a once over.

 

“Oh, I’m fine Dr. Richardson.  It’s my friends…” she trails off, not quite sure how to explain the situation.

 

“Well, I’m glad to hear you are okay.  Show me to your friends?” He asks.

 

“Oh, well the other boys are getting Jack cleaned up, but maybe you could look at Crutchie and Mouse first?” She says, leading the man into the living room, where she’s happy to see Crutchie nibbling at the apple.

 

“Crutchie?  As in the best friend of the Jack Kelly who usually sells me my morning paper?”  Mr. Richardson kneels down next to Crutchie.

 

Crutchie’s face lightens up a bit, “Oh, yeah.  Jack’s not looking good…” He trails off, taking a sip of the water.

 

“Well right now I’m here to take a look at you young man.  Can’t have Jack getting upset with me for not taking good care of his best friend,” Dr. Richardson corrects him.  Crutchie blushes.

 

Katherine hears the washroom door open and walks back down towards it, partially to check on Jack, but also to give Crutchie and Dr. Richardson some privacy.  Davey is standing outside the door, looking a bit lost and frustrated.

 

Katherine comes to stand by his side.  “How is he?”

 

Davey rubs the base of his neck, as if pondering what to say.  “He looks a mess, Kath.”  He lets out a long breath.  “It was like every layer of dirt that came off just revealed more injuries.”  He glances at her and she sees his eyes widen when he sees the concern on her face.  “I’m no doctor, but I think he’ll be fine.  Eventually.  I didn’t mean to imply-”

 

“No, I know you didn’t,” Katherine interrupts, not wanting to hear where that sentence was going.  “Dr. Richardson is looking over Crutchie and Mouse right now.  Apparently Jack used to sell him his paper every morning.”

 

Davey attempts to smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.  “That’s good.  Friendly, familiar faces and all that.”  

 

The door opens behind him, and Race’s head pokes out.  “So I thinks a shirt is pretty useless right now.  Doc’s just gonna want to take it right back off.”

 

“Yeah…”  Davey agrees before turning to Katherine.  “So should we bring him out to the living room-”

 

Katherine cuts him off, “Guest room where his box of stuff is is closer.  And he’s probably not going anywhere anytime soon, so might as well just have him somewhere comfy.”  

 

Davey nods and walks back into the bathroom with Race, returning a moment later with Jack supported between the two of them.  Katherine’s breathe catches in her throat when she sees Jack. Now free of his dirt shell, he looks even more awful. He’s more bruises and scrapes than not and his previously lean, lightly muscled frame is now whittled down enough that Katherine can now count some of his lower ribs. His pants that they’d retrieved from the box of his stuff hang loosely around his hips, threatening to fall down entirely.

 

The trio slowly makes their way across the short hall and into the guestroom, where Race and Davey carefully help Jack lay down on the bed.  Katherine instantly wishes she had anything but white linens.  She doesn’t care about them getting dirty, that isn’t it.  It is the way Jack looked compared to them.  Without his shirt, she can see that he is colored more with bruises than any of his natural skin tone.  And his natural skin tone has paled to nearly match the white of the sheets.

  
Race, looking a bit flustered, interrupts her thoughts with, “Sorry about the bathroom, the dirt just sort of made mud and the mud-”

 

“I don’t care.”  Katherine cuts him off, perhaps a bit too harshly.  Honestly, the state of her bathroom is the least of her concerns right now.  She walks to the side of the bed to stand closer to Jack, whose eyes are closed and she optimistically hopes he’s dozing.  Suddenly, Dr. Richardson is walking in saying, “I think your friends will be just fine.  It’s your turn Jack.”

 

Davey and Race turn to exit the room, and Katherine wonders whether she should leave as well, but just as she turns to leave she feels a light touch on her wrist, followed by a whispered, “Stay?”  

 

Katherine turns to cover Jack’s hand with hers before saying to Davey as he crosses the doorway, “Davey.”  He looks back at her.  “Tell Crutchie and Mouse to shower when they’re ready – if they want to.  And you guys eat whatever you can find in the kitchen.”  He nods, walking the rest of the way out the doorframe.

 

“Jack, my boy.” Dr. Richardson begins, setting his black leather medical bag on the bed beside Jack. “When you would joke with me about your bruises not being anything, I wasn’t challenging you to go get worse ones.”

 

Katherine turns in time to see Jack give a small smile and whisper, “Still not anything”.  Katherine winces at the sound of his voice.  She’s glad he’s cognizant enough to be joking around, but his voice just sounds so painful.

 

“Katherine dear, would you switch with me?  Sit on this side of the bed, while I stand on that side?  I can’t reach him very well over here. Katherine nods and switches sides of the bed with him.  She carefully climbs up to sit at Jack’s side, not wanting to shift the bed and cause him any more pain than he already has to be in.

 

“Okay Jack.”  Dr. Richardson begins, “I’m gonna start at you head and work my way down, okay?”  He waits for Jack to stiffly nod, eyes closed, before continuing, “If something hurts, and I don’t mention it, you need to tell me.  We don’t want anything to get worse.”  Jack stiffly nods again.

 

Dr. Richardson starts by feeling around Jack’s head; Katherine can only assume he’s looking for a bump or cut.  She knows head injuries are the most concerning.  Apparently finding one on the back left side of Jack’s head, he asks, “Okay, you’ve got a pretty good bump here Jack.”

 

Dr. Richardson puts his hand in front of Jack’s face and lifts one finger.  “I need you to open your eyes as wide as you can and follow my finger, okay?”  Katherine watches as Jack open his eyes as wide as he can, the left one not opening very far on account of how swollen it is, and follows the movement of the doctor's finger. Katherine notes how dull and weary Jack’s eyes look.

 

“Good.”  Dr. Richardson confirms, and Katherine feels a little relief.  He then moves down to prod at the bruises around Jack’s throat and Katherine’s gulps when she thinks she make out fingerprints in the mess.  Jack winces as the prodding continues.  “How long ago did you get this Jack?”

 

Jack looks confused and replies, “Don’t know how long I was there for.”

 

“A little under three weeks,” Katherine supplies.  

 

“Towards the middle prob’bly,” Jack mumbles.

 

“Did you lose your voice completely afterwards?”  Dr. Richardson asks.  Jack nods.  “It’s good that it is coming back then, but try to continue to rest it as much as possible.”

 

Dr. Richardson then moves down to look at Jack’s torso, which even Katherine can see is a mess.  He concludes that there are five probably broken ribs, marked by nearly black bruises.  He slowly gets Jack into a sitting position and wraps them tightly.  Katherine holds her arm out across Jack’s shoulders to keep him from falling backwards as the doctor wraps his midsection. Once Dr. Richardson finishes, she takes Jack’s left hand and gives it a squeeze, hoping to give him some comfort.  Jack weakly squeezes back.

 

Next come Jack’s wrists, which are bruised and raw from the cuffs.  Dr. Richardson gently lifts each one and examines the damage.  The left one goes fine, and Katherine continues to hold it when the doctor finishes.  When he twists the right one to examine it; however, Jack sharply sucks in his breath and weakly pulls it away from the doctor to cradle it on his chest.

 

Dr. Richardson tsks at Jack. “Jack. I know it hurts, but you’ve got to let me look at it. It’s probably just a sprain, but I want to be sure that’s it. I’ll probably need to immobilize it.” Jack looks at the doctor with what Katherine thinks is his current best attempt at a glare. Dr. Richardson adds on, “I can’t promise that it won’t hurt while I look at it Jack, but I’m not trying to hurt you. I just want to help you get back to your normal self.” Jack apparently relents, closing his eyes and shakily holding out his hand to the doctor.

 

Dr. Richardson prods around the wrist a bit and looks satisfied. “Jack, can you wiggle your fingers for me?” he asks. Jack huffs, but complies, slowly wiggling his fingers. “Well it does look like it’s just a sprain Jack, which is the best option here, all things considered.” He reaches in to his bag to pull out more wrappings and thickly wraps them around Jack’s wrist and hand, effectively immobilizing it. Jack pulls it back to cradle it on his chest once again.

 

Katherine squeezes Jack’s hand and tries to sound reassuring when she says, “You’re doing good Jack. Almost done.” She tries to ignore Dr. Richardson smiling at them.

 

“Okay Jack, be honest with me. I saw you limping as your friends helped you walk in here. Where are you hurting?” he asks.

 

“He’s got a pretty major cut across the bottom of his left foot.” Davey interjects from where is leaning in the doorway. Katherine hadn’t even noticed his arrival. “He walked on it all the way here with just a piece of cloth tied around it. I didn’t even notice it until we were cleaning him up.” He looks part angry and part concerned.

 

“Thank you…” Dr. Richardson trails off as he walks around towards the foot of the bed to kneel near Jack’s foot. Katherine can hear him suck air in through his teeth before he asks, “Okay Jacky, when did you get this?”

 

Jack opens his eyes just to roll them before saying, “First day, I think.” He pauses to take another shallow breath, “ ‘S sort of fuzzy.”

 

“And you wrapped it right away?”

 

Jack just nods and Dr. Richardson isn’t looking, so Katherine confirms for him.

 

“Do you know how long it took for it to stop bleeding?”

 

Jack squeezes his eyes shut and slowly shakes his head, giving, “Too dark.”

 

Dr. Richardson hums. “Well the good thing is it looks like you’ve somehow miraculously kept infection out of it.” Katherine looks down to see Jack smirk. “But there’s not too much I can do for it besides wrap it up and order you to stay off it as long as you can. Stitches would do more harm than good on that part of your foot and then we’d just have to take them out later. You have to stay off of it though. Walking on it is just going to keep reopening the wound.”

 

As Dr. Richardson wraps Jack’s foot, Katherine keeps her attention on Jack, who seems to be struggling to stay awake. She brushes his hair, which is longer than she’s ever seen it, out of his eyes with her hand that’s not wrapped around Jack’s. She wonders if he’ll let her cut it when he’s fully awake.

 

Dr. Richardson stands up at the foot of the bed and says to Jack, “You’ve got a bit of a fever right now. I can’t find any infection so I think it’s probably being caused by stress and fatigue. It should go down as soon as you’ve gotten a couple of days rest, but please let me know if it doesn’t.” He looks to Katherine, who nods in confirmation before continuing, “And before you fall asleep tonight, try and get some water down. Some food too if you can, but it’s not as urgent. You’re dehydrated and even skinnier than you normally are.” He starts packing everything back in to his bag and heading out of the room.

 

Katherine squeezes Jack’s hand before releasing it and climbing off the bed to walk with Dr. Richardson to the kitchen. She reaches for her purse and hand’s out a small stack of cash that amounts to a little over twice as much as her normal doctor checkups, “Is this enough?”

 

He glances at it before pushing her hand back, “Just take good care of him Katherine.” Before she can protest, he has let himself out of her apartment. She, somewhat annoyed, stuffs the cash back in purse before entering her kitchen to grab a glass of water for Jack, figuring if she gets him to drink it then she’ll worry about food. Right now, she’s fairly sure she’s racing against the clock to even get him to drink water before he passes out.

 

Passing through the living room on the way back to Jack, Katherine notices that Race, Mouse, and Crutchie are gone. She doesn’t find them with Jack either, only seeing Davey sitting against the wall beside the bed, looking a bit overwhelmed.

 

“Davey, where’d Crutchie, Race, and Mouse go?” She asks as she moves around to sit on the side of the bed she had just vacated. Relieved to see Jack’s still awake, she hands him the glass of water, which he shakily takes from her.

 

“They went back to the boarding house right before I came in here. Race and Crutchie figured they would help with all the new boys that we sent over there this afternoon.” Davey’s fiddles with his hat in his hands. “I think they were planning on stopping by tomorrow if that’s okay?”

 

“Of course that’s okay. I was actually planning on asking them if they’d like to stay the night. You’re welcome to stay if you want,” Katherine says as she watches Jack slowly lift the cup to his mouth and sip at the water.

 

“I’d best be heading home too. Les is surely waiting up to hear how everything went and I think my parents were a bit worried too.” Davey stands from his position on the floor to hover at Jack’s other side. He reaches out to pat Jack, but his hand hovers for a moment, before he finds a place less bruised on his shoulder to gently place his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

Jack holds the glass of water on his stomach for a moment before looking up at Davey and whispering out, “Hey Dave? Thanks.”

 

“From what I’ve heard you’d have done the same, so don’t worry about it. Just focus on getting better.” Davey responds, smiling. “Good night,” he calls as he exits the room and lets himself out of the apartment.

 

Katherine turns from watching Davey exit back to Jack, relieved to find he’s drunk almost all of the water. “You think you can drink some more? Or do you want to try and eat something?” She asks, unsure of where to go from here.

 

He holds out the glass to her, saying, “No. Not now.” She takes the glass and sets it on the bedside table. Jack takes her hand this time and slowly rubs circles on the top of it with his thumb. “Thanks for everything Ace.” He mumbles before gently pulling her hand to his lips to gently kiss it. Their hands come to a rest on his chest afterwards. Jack closes his eyes and Katherine hopes this time he’s really going to sleep.

 

They stay like that for a while, until Katherine is sure Jack has fallen asleep to the sound of rain pattering outside the window. She gently pulls her hand from his and climbs off the bed to go and grab him a blanket from the trunk at the end of the bed. Pulling out the blue blanket that she’d brought from home because it reminded her of him, she unfolds it and gently lays it over him. Taking a long look at him one last time just to be sure he’s sleeping, she exits the room to go down the hall to her own bedroom.

 

She tries. She really tries to sleep, but with every sound she hears, she worries its Jack. That he’s fallen out of the bed, or is actually trying to get out on purpose. She holds her breathe after each, trying to hear more follow-up sounds. She eventually gives up and returns to the guest room to curl up on the opposite edge of the bed as Jack, making sure they’re not touching as much as to make sure she doesn’t inadvertently hurt him as to try and silence the echoes of her mother’s voice scolding her for how improper it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, comments/suggestions/questions are appreciated and loved!
> 
> If you want to bug me/talk with me/suggest a fic you can find me at my tumblr: https://writing-instead-of-sleeping.tumblr.com


	14. Jack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you may have noticed I've set this fic to have a total of 15 chapters, so only one more after this one so long as nothing crazy happens.

**Jack**

Soft. Warm. Upon waking, those are those first two things that register with Jack. That he was lying on something softer than he had ever laid on in his life and that he was warm. Yesterday hadn’t been some elaborate hallucination then. He wasn’t _there_ anymore as soft and warm were definitely not words that could be used to describe the Refuge. He is out...somewhere. Actually, he isn’t sure where he is, just that it’s not that darn cell.

 

Jack slowly opens his eyes. Wherever he is must not be too bright, because he is able to keep them open for more than a second without being forced to slam them shut. He takes a moment to take in his surroundings. He’s laying on a bed with a blue blanket draped over him. The sheets to his left are rumpled, as if someone had been sitting there at some point, but the spot is currently empty. He vaguely recalls Katherine sitting there while a doctor, one of his regulars, looked him over. There is a window to his right, and a door in the corner of the room in front of him.

 

He involuntarily tenses at the sight of the closed door. He’s sure it will open, most doors do, but the idea of being shut in a room, even one as nice as this one, is unsettling. He pushes himself upright, grimacing a bit as the pressure on his ribs shifts. Jack sits there for a moment longer to take stock of himself and settle his breathing. Looking over himself, he realizes he’s more bandages than not. He’s never actually had his injuries treated by a doctor before, it’s not like it was something he could afford with what little he made selling papes, and he feels a bit guilty that Katherine would spend money on a doctor for him. His injuries would heal up fine enough without all these wrappings. They’ve always healed up fine before, even if he begrudgingly admits that they’ve never been this bad or numerous.

 

Jack slowly makes his way towards the door, careful to walk on his left heel so not to put pressure on the cut at the front of his foot. It’s an awkward way to walk, but there’s no way he’s just going to sit around and do nothing until that’s healed. Anyways, he wants to check in with his boys and needs to get back out selling.

 

He pulls the door open and is greeted by the sound of bare feet running down the hallway. Katherine suddenly appears in front of him with, “Jack! You’re up!” Her face displays a mix of surprise and concern.

 

Jack puts on a smile. “Yeah.” A moment of silence. “You not expectin’ me to wake up or something?”

 

“You’re supposed to be resting! And keeping off your foot!” Katherine counters and pointedly looks down to where he’s gingerly holding his left foot off the ground.

 

“I rested. And now I’s fine.” Jack cockily smiles. Katherine just stares at him, aghast. “You’s seen my shirt?” He gestures towards his chest, which is bare besides the bandages wrapped around it. “I’s gonna go see my boys-“

 

“Jack Kelly.” Katherine interrupts him and places her hands on her hips. “You are not walking halfway across town on your own. You are going to rest.”

 

“I’s done plenty of resting. I’ve done nothing but sit around in a little room for weeks!’ Jack yells back. He immediately regrets saying that the second he sees Katherine’s face fall at the reminder and guilt washes over him. “Just, can I have my shirt? Then I’ll be out of here. I can rest at the boarding house.”

 

Katherine turns and walks in to another room before returning with his grey shirt and bashfully handing it over. Jack slowly pulls the shirt on, hoping Kath’s not looking close enough to see him wince when his shoulders stretch. He struggles to button up the front with the way his right hand is bandaged and eventually gives up half way. When he returns to look at Kath again, she’s solemnly staring at him. “What?” he asks.  

 

“You don’t have to pretend to be fine around me Jack. I don’t want you to, actually. Just like I don’t want you to leave just yet. I feel so bad for what my father did and I just got you back and-“ Katherine rambles.

 

Jack daringly grabs her by the check and pulls her in for a kiss, effectively shutting her up. When he pulls away, Katherine’s face is flushed red. “Ace. It wasn’t you. It was your father and you don’t have ta feel bad for what he did. You’s ain’t him and I promise I ain’t gonna mix the two of ya up.” He tries to put on a reassuring smile.

 

Katherine takes a moment to gather her thoughts and compose herself before responding, “Will you at least stay a little longer? I know the boys were planning on stopping by at some point. And if you really want to go back to the boarding house tonight, I’d feel a lot better if you went with them instead of by yourself.” Katherine finally breaks the silence.

 

“I guess.” Jack smiles teasingly. “You make me sound like some fine lady in need of an escort.”

 

“Well then may I escort you to the living room Mr. Kelly?” Katherine jokes and holds out her elbow, which Jack takes with a laugh before they begin to make slow progress in to the living room seating area. Jack takes a seat on the plush sofa and looks over Katherine’s sparse sitting area. It’s drastically different than her father’s home, at least from the impression he got of it when the Delancey brothers were marching him through.

The one thing that manages to catch his attention is the framed drawing on the wall across from the couch where he is currently seated. It’s the sketch he’d drawn of Katherine at Medda’s all those weeks ago. He’s both proud and embarrassed that Kath is displaying his drawing. While he’s distracted, a glass of water is pushed in to his hands and Kath plops down on the couch beside him. He absentmindedly sips at the water while they sit in silence.

 

Kath seems to notice what has caught his attention. “You know, your drawings really did do all the work. They’re what convinced the governor to close the Refuge and what got my article published. I’ve said it before, but I think it’s worth repeating: you’re talented Jack.”

 

Jack huffs. “There’s loads of people better than me.”

 

“Don’t downplay your talent Jack.” She lightly swats him on the arm and he pretends that it hurt until he sees she’s taken his reaction seriously.

 

“I was just playin’ Ace. That didn’t hurt.” He tries to calm her.

 

“Well it’s not funny.” She pouts and crosses her arms across her chest. Jack thinks it’s cute, even if it is a bit childish. “You know, my editor was really impressed by your drawing. He’s interested in hiring you to illustrate for the paper if you’re interested.”

 

Jack smiles before thinking the idea through. “You’re kidding right? He’d take one look at me and change his mind. Anyways, I doubt your father would ever let that happen.”

 

“Jack, he’s well aware of who you are. ‘Jack Kelly’, the newsboy leader isn’t exactly unknown to the newspapers. He doesn’t care about your past, just your talent. Your drawings catch people’s attention and that sells. You should know what sells a paper better than anyone.”

 

“Well there’s still your father after my head. There’s no way he’d let that happen,” Jack scoffs, unwilling to let himself believe this was even a possibility.

 

Katherine turns to look at him in the eyes before saying, “Jack. He can’t get to you anymore. Don’t you see? Anything he does against you or any of the newsies just serves to make him look worse and he’ll avoid that at all costs. Keeping you from taking the illustrator job certainly wouldn’t look good for him right now.”

 

Jack allows himself to hope a little and smile, “You really think I should try, Ace? I mean, I can’t draw much right now with all this stuff the doctor wrapped around my hand.” He raises said hand for emphasis.

 

Katherine earnestly laughs. “In a two or three weeks then. I think you’d be great at it and you’d be wasting your talent if you didn’t pursue the job, but you have to make the decision yourself Jack.”

 

Jack takes a moment to think the idea through. He’d always known he couldn’t be a newsie forever, but he hadn’t honestly thought he’d be around long enough to age out and need to find a new job. “I guess I can’t be a newsie forever.” He sees Katherine start to beam. “Ace, I ain’t saying yes, but I’ll think about it.” There was no way he was cornering himself in to this decision.

 

After a few minutes of silence, “So Ace huh. Like an Ace up your sleeve?” She prompts inquisitively.

 

“Something Race said. I think it fits. I can stop if you don’t like it.” He offers.

 

“No, I like it.” Jack glances at her to see a smile spreading across her face. They sit in awkward silence for a bit longer before Katherine speaks up again, “Seriously though Jack, how are you feeling? Please don’t sugar-coat it. I can have Dr. Richardson come back if I need to.”

 

Jack sets his now empty cup on the table beside the couch. “I’m fine Ace. You don’t need to be spending money on me by having a doctor come here.”

 

Katherine groans. “Jack. I want to spend money on you. I care about you and want to make sure you’re happy and healthy. If it makes you feel better about it, think of the money as my father’s instead of mine.” Jack smirks. “So, seriously how are you feeling?”

 

He’s saved by knocking at the door. “Don’t think you’ve avoided the question,” Katherine tells him as she rises to answer the door. Jack fumbles with the sleeve of his shirt; trying to roll it up a bit so the rough fabric isn’t rubbing at the raw skin of his wrist.

 

“Jack!” a young voice is yelling from behind him. Jack smirks as he recognizes the voice as Les’s. Before he can answer, the kid is on the couch beside him and pulling him in to a tight hug. Jack tries to keep the smile the only thing displaying on his face.

 

“Les, be careful!” Davey’s yelling at the kid as he runs up to pull him off of Jack.

 

“He’s fine Davey. He’s just excited and I ain’t breakable,” Jack reassures him, even if he’s glad to have the pressure off of his ribs.

 

Suddenly, there’s a hand on his forehead and an older woman, who he assumes is Les and Davey’s mom, is tutting, “Still got a bit of a fever honey.”

 

Jack turns to look at Davey, whose face is bright red. “Sorry Jack, Kath; our mother insisted on coming.”

 

Davey and Les’s mother hangs around for the better part of an hour. She had brought ingredients for soup with her and she and Katherine puttered away in the kitchen to make it in to something edible. Les took that time to fill Jack in on all his improved headlines from the last couple of weeks and bragging about how many papes he had sold. Jack had no doubt the kid would be outselling him sooner than later. He’d probably make a great Manhattan leader after Race if he hung around long enough.

 

When the soup was done, Mrs. Jacobs had pushed a bowl in to Jack’s hands, given him a commanding, “Eat,” and grabbed Les to disappear through the front door. Les had protested, but she had exclaimed that they would eat at home with his father and that it was far too dark for him to walk home with Davey when Davey was done visiting.

 

The remaining trio sits around the living room, slurping at the soup. Jack admits, the soup is delicious and better than anything he’s eaten in a long while, even before his most recent stint in the Refuge. He fills quickly though; his stomach no longer used to eating more than a couple scraps at a time. Not one to waste food, he keeps slowly forcing the soup down until the bowl is empty.

 

“You want some more Jack? My mom made plenty,” Davey spouts when he notices Jack’s empty bowl.

 

Jack, somewhat ashamedly, admits, “No…I- I don’t think…” He lets himself trail off in to silence. Newsies never say no to more food, and yet here he was doing exactly that.

 

A hand appears on his shoulder and he tries not to flinch, repressing the association the Refuge formed of being dragged down to the basement after eating. He must have failed at the whole not-flinching thing though, because Davey, whose hand is now hovering above his shoulder, is looking at him with terror written across his face. “Jack- Jack I’m sorry. What did I do?” The ‘what did they do to you’ goes unsaid, but is clearly what Davey’s actually asking.

 

Jack shrugs it off, “I’s fine. Just startled me, that’s all.” Davey and Kath both look at him with disbelief. “Really, I’s fine.” He insists.

 

Today must be his lucky day, because he’s saved from more questioning by knocking at the door once again. He sighs in relief when Katherine leaves it be and goes to answer the door. Davey’s still staring at him though. Let him stare, there’s no way Jack’s going to let Davey haunt himself with his memories. Whatever he’s imagining can’t possibly be worse than what Jack could tell him. Jack returns Davey’s stare.

 

Neither of them has given in to blinking yet when Race steps in between the pair. “Hey Jack! ‘S good to see you up.” Jack shifts his gaze up to Race and smiles. “So why’s your shirt half unbuttoned?” He leans in closer to not so subtly whisper in Jack’s ear, “Yous and Katherine-“

 

Jack interrupts, “Get ya head out of the gutter Race. Nothing like that.” He playfully shoves the other boy, whose still smiling like he’s uncovered some dirty secret. He backs up to sit so close to Davey on the other couch that he’s practically sitting on the other boy’s lap. Davey looks beyond flustered, though Jack’s not sure whether it’s from Race’s suggestion or the fact he’s basically on his lap.

 

Crutchie comes over next and sits beside Jack on the couch. Jack reaches across to hug his friend, but a very small kid he’s never seen before crawls up to plop down between the two. The kid turns and stares up at him with his big green eyes. “Hey Crutchie, whose this?” Jack questions, feeling a little uncomfortable under the new kid’s stare.

 

“Oh, I guess you wouldn’t have met him.” Crutchie flinches, though Jack’s not really sure why. “This here is Mouse. He was my bunkmate at the Refuge and he’s one of us now.”

 

Jack smiles and ruffles the new kid’s hair. “Hey Mouse. I’m Jack, nice ta meet ya.” The kids eyes widen.

 

“I’s seen you before.” The kid whispers. Jack looks to Crutchie, who seems to be just as shocked and confused as Jack.

 

Jack smiles uncomfortably, “Yeah? And where have we met kid cause I sure don’t remember ya.”

 

“Maybe you mean you’ve heard of him before Mouse? I mean, this is my friend Jack I told ya stories about before we went ta sleep,” Crutchie optimistically offers.

 

Mouse turns to Crutchie to simply say, “No.” He then turns back to Jack and point him, “You was in the basement with me. You slept a lot.”

 

Jack feels all the blood drain from his face, but quickly frames a smile and replies, “So you was making those sounds. I thought I was hearin’ rats or just imagining things.” He regrets those words the second they leave his mouth. Davey and Katherine are looking at him with fear emblazoned across their faces again. Darn, he’s said too much.

 

Mouse smiles and shakes his head before asking with all the innocence only a child could muster, “Have you slept enough now?”

 

Even Jack can’t keep himself from laughing at the question, “I’s almost caught up on sleep I think.”

 

“Good,” Mouse smiles and gently wraps him in a hug.

 

Jack looks over Mouse to Crutchie, whose chuckling and smiling too, “He your new selling partner now? This kid could sell more papes than Les and I together.” Crutchie nods.

 

He hadn’t noticed Katherine leave, but she’s suddenly back, balancing three bowls of soup. She carefully hands one to each of the newcomers before taking a seat on the opposite side of Davey as Race.

 

“So when’s you coming back to the boarding house?” Race asks between mouthfuls of soup.

 

“Soon as I can. I hears you’s been running things while I was away,” Jack replies. If he’s really going to consider the illustrator gig, then he’s got to make sure the boarding house and his boys have got someone else looking out for them. He’ll always be around, of course, but the newsies need a leader that’s right by their side.

 

Race smirks and looks down, “Just did my best.”

 

“He did great,” Davey buts in.

 

“Pfffft, I think ‘great’s stretchin the truth a bit much, even for a newsie Dave,” Race retorts.

 

“I’m sure you did great Racer. You’ll be a great Manhattan leader someday,” Jack softly smiles.

 

“You’s not leaving us are ya Jack?” Crutchie pipes up from beside him, worry etching itself across his face. “I knows you wants ta go to Santa Fe, but already?”

 

“No!” Jack reassures the group. “Just, ya know, I’m gonna age out eventually. Just gotta make sure everything’s taken care of for when that time comes.”

 

Jack feels Crutchie relax beside him. “Race missed ya a lot Jack. Wasn’t sleeping at all,” he teases.

 

“Awww, did ya miss me?” Jack taunts the younger newsie.

 

“No!” Race retorts and flings a spoonful of soup in Jack’s direction.

 

“Hey! I don’t care how you eat at the boarding house, but here food does not get flung around,” Katherine interrupts.

 

Jack chuckles and Race’s apologetic look. “Sorry Kath.” The boy sets his bowl on the table as if to remove any further temptation.

 

Davey looks at the now pitch black sky out Kath’s window and stands, “Well, I best be getting home. Keep resting up Jack; we can wait for you to be better.”

 

Everyone stands and makes their way towards the door with Davey. Mouse detaches himself from Crutchie to hug Jack around the legs. “Bye!” He innocently calls up to Jack.

 

Davey opens the door and hold it open so Crutchie and Mouse can walk through. Race turns one last time to Jack looking as if he’s got something to say, but ends up giving him a light hug instead before disappearing through the door. Jack watches the group disappear down the hall.

 

“You’re not going with them?” Katherine asks him, the surprise evident in her voice.

 

“I think they’ll be fine without me for a bit longer,” Jack smiles and Katherine hugs him. He hesitates for a moment before hugging her in return, resting his chin on her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, comments/suggestions/questions are appreciated and loved! 
> 
> If you were wondering where the Race suggesting Ace as Katherine's nickname line is, it's in the other fic in this series, "Race's Interlude".
> 
> If you want to bug me/talk with me/suggest a fic you can find me at my tumblr: https://writing-instead-of-sleeping.tumblr.com


	15. Epilogue: Katherine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a bit later than normal. I wanted it to be p-e-r-f-e-c-t. I've also gone through the previous chapters and fixed some formatting and spelling errors.

**Katherine**

 

A party of sorts has erupted on the roof of her apartment building. She’ll probably hear about it from her landlord later, but right now she’s too giddy to pay that much mind. Her landlord can’t really get mad at her for being on the rooftop, as there’s no rule against it (she’s looked over her lease and is absolutely sure on this point), but he’ll probably find issue with the dozen or so newsies joining her up here. And the alcohol. He’ll definitely find issue with the alcohol.  

 

She’s not sure which one of the boys brought the alcohol or how they’d even gotten it, considering not one person on this rooftop is of legal drinking age. She suspects Race has something to do with it. Or Spot. Or possibly both.  The two have been thick as thieves since they arrived and were the first ones to get noticeably tipsy from the alcohol. Jack had gotten his own cup of the stuff, but Katherine thinks it is more for appearances than not because he has yet to actually drink any of it.

 

He’s seated besides her, leaning back against the chimneystack and keeping an eye on the rest of the boys gathered. He may have mostly left the boarding house now, but she can tell that those boys are always on his mind. Crutchie’s in the middle of the roof with Les and Mouse, who are playing some version of charades that’s keeping Crutchie smiling and laughing. Davey sits back from the trio with Specs and Jojo, seemingly in deep discussion about something. She can only imagine what.

 

Davey had returned to school last week, but has skipped classes today in lieu of joining them for this celebration. He seems happier now, more in his place amongst books than out hawking papers, but he’s always around the boys after his homework is finished.  According to Crutchie, he's taken to giving impromptu lessons to any of the boys who are interested.  Les so far has resisted returning to school and has been continuing to sell with the newsies every day. Katherine muses that maybe she should ask Jack to talk to Les about the importance of school. Half the boys in the lodging house would die for the chance to attend school and move forward with their lives, but Les was currently rejecting that opportunity. He still idolized Jack and would listen to him.

 

Katherine takes a moment to sit back and reflect. It has been a full month since the Refuge’s closure and while things have not exactly returned to as how they were before the strike, they have settled in to a new normal. Or at least something Katherine hopes will become a new, better normal.

 

~~~~~

 

_Jack had lasted an entire three days of resting and self-proclaimed boredom, which he had loudly exclaimed to her multiple times before she admitted that maybe keeping him cooped up in her apartment was not her smartest idea, even it was what was best for his continued recovery. He’d then returned to the boarding house to hawk papes with his friends. She’d been worried he’d overdo it, but according to Crutchie, “You must have gotten through to him or somethin’ cause he’s only sellin’ every other day.” It had eased her nerves a little._

 

~~~~~

_When the first evening snow came around about a week later, she’d been woken in the middle of the night by a large thud coming from her guest room. She’d raced down the hall to find the window open and Jack sprawled across the floor, cursing under his breath. He’d noticed her, gotten noticeably redder in the face and tried to explain with, “Sorry Ace. There was ice…and I slipped...and I couldn’t catch myself cause of the stupid stuff wrapped around my hand…” She’d laughed at him, helped him up, and shut the window to keep the snowflakes outside where they belong. “You knows, you should really keep that locked,” he’d pointed out, obviously trying to distract her from what had just happened._

_She’d laughed, kissed him on the check, and responded, “Well then how else would you get in?” Katherine had left that window unlocked since Jack’s stay, hoping that Jack would come if he needed a place to go and figuring he’d avoid the building’s doorman at all costs. She’d ended the evening’s encounter with, “Good night Jack,” and returned to sleep in her own bed. The next morning she’d found the guest room empty, the bed haphazardly made, and a pile of bandages in the trash bin. On the pillow was a small drawing depicting a newsie hawking papers on a busy street corner._

_She would soon stop referring to that room as the guest room, and more simply as Jack’s room._

 

~~~~~

 

_Not quite a week later, she’d finally convinced Jack to eat dinner with her, at Jacobi’s of course because “no place else will do for a newsie” according to him. She’d ordered pie, which Jack had insisted he didn’t actually want even though he’d been eyeing the slices brought to the surrounding tables all evening, and insisted he share with her because she ‘could never finish a whole slice on her own’. She absolutely could, the pie was delicious, but that was the only way he’d ever eat any and even if he hadn’t been eyeing it over his entrée he could still use the extra calories._

_Jack, between bites, had finally broached the subject she’d been waiting to ask him about all evening. “So, I-I was thinking that maybe I could try that illustrator job. If you think I should.”_

_Through a large smile, she’d answered, “You already known I think you’d be great at it.” Jack smirked. “Have you told the boys?” She’d asked, figuring his connection to them was what was partly what was keeping him from taking the job._

_“I mentioned it to them…”_

_“And?” She’d inquired. There was no way they didn’t have an opinion on this._

_Jack had shrugged. “They said I should take it, that it’s ‘my way out’.” He finger quoted the last couple of words. “Race even looked okay with it and said it was fine so long as the job wasn’t all the way in Santa Fe.”_

_Katherine had smiled, “That’s great Jack!” Jack had been noticeably more relaxed for the rest of the dinner._

 

~~~~~

 

_The next day, she’d taken Jack to her favorite department store to get him a couple office outfits for his new illustrator job. It had gone…poorly…to say the least. Before they had even gotten to the store, Jack had protested vehemently that his current clothes were fine, so she’d walked him in to The Sun to introduce him to her editor and sign his contract. It had been a cruel tactic and she’s ashamed she’d used it, but Jack had taken one look around the office and conceded that maybe one set of office clothes wouldn’t be such a horrible idea. She’d happily agreed, knowing she could just get his measurements from whatever they bought and purchase him some more outfits at a later date._

_All of that was before they’d even set foot in the store. Once there, Jack had pulled down his newsie cap as low as it would go and curled up on himself so that he looked like a small child hovering behind her. Then when he’d been pushed in to the fitting room with the clothes, he’d complained that a tailor had accompanied him and that he ‘was not a child, he could dress himself’. When Jack had finally exited from the small dressing room, he had looked absolutely dashing, even in the simple working suit. She’d told him as much, told the tailor they would be purchasing this outfit, and then the darn tailor had said the price out loud._

_That had been it. Jack had yelled, “Nope; never mind!”, run back in to the dressing room and was changed and out of the store before Katherine could even try and talk to him. She’d spent the next twenty minutes profusely apologizing to the tailor and purchasing the suit. Even if Jack refused to wear it, she had felt obligated to buy it after the commotion Jack had caused. Not that it was entirely his fault; she should have talked with him some more before coming to the store. Or she should have just taken his measurements herself and skipped having him come to the store entirely._

_She’d known trying to chase after Jack or track him down would be entirely pointless; he is much more familiar with this city than she is. So she’d come up with a roundabout solution to the issue. She’d run by Darcy’s house and luckily caught him at home and not busy. After explaining the situation, he’d found some of his outfits that according to him were either too small, out of style, or just ‘not his type’ and had them sent over to her apartment. Katherine suspected her old friend threw in some of the articles of clothing simply because he thought it would look good on Jack (Darcy always had a better eye for these types of things than she did). She’d tried to pay him, but he’d bartered down to her and Jack attending a double date with him and his new girlfriend so that he ‘could get to know the man who stole his best friend’s heart and rightfully pissed off her father’. She’d agreed, fully intending to pay for everything on that date to make up for Darcy’s generosity, support, and understanding._

_Money. She was starting to realize how big a role it played in her life, or how little. Money was of no matter to her, never has been. But to Jack, money was a big deal. She was trying to understand, be a good girlfriend and talk it through, but it was one of the many topics Jack had refused to converse with her about. Unfortunately, it was one of the discussions they needed to have most, considering how big the role of money was in her life and she wanted to share her life with him. She’d worried over the issue all the way back to her apartment, choosing to walk the long way instead of take a carriage because the idea of paying for it was just compounding the issue for her._

_Given what Crutchie had told her about Jack disappearing when he gets spooked or stressed or simply has too much on his mind, Katherine had been very surprised to find Jack waiting in her apartment for her when she walked through the door. He had looked so upset that she had been tempted to cry. She’d caused him to feel like that and that broke her heart._

_Before she could say anything, Jack had broken the silence, “Ace. I-I’s sorry.” He had been wringing his grey newsie cap between his hands._

_“What?” She hadn’t been able to help herself from exclaiming. “Jack, you have nothing to be sorry for. I should have known better.”_

_She’s still not sure whether or not he heard her because he had just continued with, “I shouldn’t have run out and made everyone stare at ya. It probably made ya feel real bad and now you’s probably upset with me and I’ve ruined this-“_

_She had reached out to grab his hands, stop them from wringing his poor hat to death. He hadn’t looked up at her though. “Jack. Look at me.” He had slowly raised his head to look her in the eyes._

_“Ace, why’s you crying?” He had solemnly asked, a frown splitting his face._

_“I didn’t realize I was,” she had giggled. Jack had started to look back down at his hands. “Jack. Please look at me. I am not upset with you. You’ve not ruined anything. I love you more than ever and I hope you’ll have the patience to work through this with me.”_

_Jack had absolutely beamed, “You love me?”_

_Katherine had blushed, not realizing she’d admitted that out loud. Well, it was true and she couldn’t take it back, “Yes silly.”_

_“I love you too Ace.” Jack had blushed as he admitted it. It had been illegally cute. “And I am sorry that I suck at talking about stuff.”_

_“When you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be here and money is a discussion that we need to have sooner than later, but for now I have solution to this new clothes dilemma.”_

_Jack had raised an eyebrow at her, and looked at her uncertainly, “Yeah? And what’s that Ace?”_

_“I talked to Darcy and he’s sent over his suits that don’t fit him anymore or that he just doesn’t like. You can try those on and I’ll have them tailored to fit you properly.” An awkward pause while she had debated telling him about the suit from the department store, “and I may have bought the suit at the department store.”_

_Jack had leaned back and rolled his eyes, but hadn’t argued with her over the department store suit purchase. “And how much did you pay Darcy?”_

_Katherine had sighed, they really needed to have a serious discussion about money sooner than later, “Nothing.” Jack had interrupted her with a groan. “He just asked that we join him on a date with his new girlfriend soon. He wants to get to know you.”_

_Jack had huffed. “Fine. Sounds really uneven though.”_

_“It is. I’ll openly admit to it. But that was all he would accept Jack. Keep in mind he and I were raised the same way and that money is fairly meaningless to him still. Right now, getting to know you has a lot more value to Darcy than any amount of money I could try to offer him.”_

_Jack had then finally tried on the pile of clothes Darcy had sent over, Katherine giddily cheering him on from the couch when he would come out in a new outfit. Besides the pants definitely being too long, everything else wouldn’t need a lot of tailoring, which was a relief. She hadn’t wanted Jack to argue over tailoring costs as well. There had been a dark green shirt, which definitely would have been too small on Darcy, which fit Jack amazingly and brought out the color of his eyes. While she usually associated Jack with blue because of his old shirt, this green shirt was her new immediate favorite._

 

_Jack must have noticed too, as he had taken to wearing it more often than any of the other articles of clothing._

 

~~~~~

 

_On Jack’s first day at The Sun, she had visited him at his illustrator’s desk around the lunch hour. He had rolled up his sleeves to avoid ink splatter from staining his new shirt, so his forearms and hands proudly displayed several streaks and blotches of ink. He had been hunched over his desk, sketching something that looked like the beginnings of a baseball player mid-swing. Even unfinished, his work was better than most the other illustrator’s works. She hoped their editor would take notice and tell Jack as much. Some praise would go a long ways towards making him feel more comfortable in his new position. Any words of praise from her had quickly been brushed off by Jack with, “Ace, you’s just saying that cause you’s my girl and you thinks you have ta.”_

_He apparently hadn’t noticed her approach and she felt him stiffen under her touch when she laid a hand on his shoulder. He’d then leaned far enough back to look up in to her eyes and relax._

_“Hiya Ace,” he’d smiled before turning his chair around to face her and pulling her hands to hold in his own. “What’s up?”_

_“Well I thought we should celebrate your first day by going to get some lunch.” She’d started pulling his hands to get him out of his chair._

_“That time already?” He’d said as he allowed himself to pulled standing by her._

_“Yes, now come on Mr. Illustrator,” she’d teased as she’d grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and tossed it to him. He had shrugged it on, kissed her on the cheek, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they departed they office. Such a display of affection was definitely not appropriate for the office, but she had given up caring. As more time distanced Jack from the Refuge, he’d become increasingly tactile and she didn’t ever want him to feel like his happy, care-free touches of affection were anything but wanted._

_They’d greeted the couple of newsies they passed on their way to the deli, Jacobi’s of course, and Jack had checked in on them just as a cat would check in on her kittens; making sure they were selling okay, giving them advice, and leaving them with a stern “you come to me if you have any troubles, okay?” She hadn’t rushed him along, even if this had meant an extra-long lunch hour and leaving the office late that evening. Those newsies were his family, and were slowly becoming hers as well._

~~~~~

By now, Jack had pretty much weaned the newsies off of his leadership and had pushed forward Race with his best attempts at encouragement. Race seems to have taken to the leadership role better now and Katherine suspects that leading comes more naturally and easily to him without the constant worrying about Jack and the Refuge.

 

Katherine winced as Spot and Race started play fighting on the rough rooftop, nearly rolling in to Mouse and Les.  Jack must have noticed because he leaned in to her and whispered, “They’s fine. It’s good to see them loosen up a bit.”

 

She hummed in agreement and they watched as the pair rolled around the rooftop, disturbing some of the dust and creating little clouds of the stuff in their wake. Turning to look at Jack, she sees an earnest smile on his face. She nudges him with her elbow, “Why don’t you go join them? It looks like you want to and you could loosen up a bit too.”

 

Jack laughed. “There ain’t no way I’m getting in the middle of those two.”

 

“Well then go join in Mouse and Les’ charades game.” She suggested.

 

He turned to look at her with wide, playfully-accusing eyes, “You trying to get rid o' me Miss Plumber?”

 

She playfully slaps him on the arm. “Not ever, Mr. Kelly, you’re stuck with me."  She give him a reassuring smile.  "I’m just trying to let you know it’s okay if you want to go hang out with your boys.  I see you every day and they maybe get to see you a couple of times a week.” A ghost of a frown slips on Jack’s face. Fearing she’s said something wrong, “What’s wrong, was it something I said?”

 

Jack takes a long sip of the alcohol he’d yet to touch, grimacing as it goes down. “Nothing ya said Ace.”

 

“Then what is it? I want to help.” She’s worried now.

 

He rolls his eyes and looks pensive. “I feel bad, that’s all.” He looks back down at the alcohol again but sets the cup off to the side so he can wring his hands together instead. “I got out and it wasn’t like I was trying or nothing. Just pure dumb luck that I met you and you pulled me out.” He looks around at his boys on the rooftop. “These guys are still stuck there. They knows it, I knows it and I feel like I’s rubbing it in every time I see ‘em dressed in these fancy office clothes and they ask me about being a illustrator.”

 

Katherine feels guilty for not ever considering how Jack would feel about being pulled away from his boys. “Oh, Jack.” She wraps her arms around him as best she can given the way they are leaned up against the chimneystack. “Those boys are happy for you. That’s why they ask about your new job, because they can see it makes you happy.  And you know what?”

 

Jack looks at her with glistening eyes, “What?”

 

“You’re right, you are out. I didn’t have as much to do with that as your drawings did,” he looks like he’s about to interrupt her with another insistence that he’s not actually that talented, “and don’t you dare say you aren’t talented again Jack. I know for a fact that our editor has told you as much and that that’s why you’ve been getting the major stories as your assignments over the more senior illustrators.” She pulls her hug a little tighter. “And even if you still want to think I was the one who pulled you out, you’re out now too. You, we, can help them find jobs and adult lives when they’re ready.”

 

Jack smiles and pulls his arms out of her embrace to set a calloused hand on her cheek. “You’s the best Ace, you know that?” He slowly pulls her in for a deep kiss, which is met by cheers by the rest of the rooftop’s occupants. He pulls away and waves them to silence. “Hey, minds your own business.”

 

“Then gets yer own roof!” Race shouts.

 

Jack releases her and stands up, “How ‘bout I fight ya for this one?” He taunts playfully before throwing himself towards Race where they tumble to the ground, laughing. Soon enough, all of the boys, even Davey, to her great surprise, have joined in to make a large dog pile over the pair.

 

Katherine laughs and takes in the sight of all the boys, her boys, smiling and laughing. Just beyond them sits the new skyline, the cause of their celebration, which as of this morning is devoid of the silhouette of a certain children’s jail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we've finally come to the completion of this story arc and my first ever completed fic! Thank you to everyone for hanging in there!
> 
> I'm probably taking a week or so break, then I will start on another fic in this series (maybe two, we'll see if I can handle more than one at a time). I am open to one-shots and fic suggestions, especially as I'll have more free time (and a lot of long car/plane rides) with the holiday season coming up, so please come bug me in the comment section below or at my tumblr: https://writing-instead-of-sleeping.tumblr.com
> 
> As always, comments/suggestions/questions are appreciated and much loved! 
> 
> Happy Holidays everyone!


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